New Ruler, New Rules
by Minerva Solo
Summary: Estet is gone, but Schwarz live on. Epilogue!!!!!!!! And bribery! ^_^
1. Chapter 1

New Rules, New Ruler  
  
*Author's Note: This is going to be solely Schwarz based. I think. Usual disclaimers apply, but I take full responsibility for Tanya, Tash and the plot I have yet to think of. This take's place after the destruction of SS. Again, unabashed sappiness, yaoi (I feel I ought to give more warning this time, since Schu and Brad just seem unable to stop. I swear, I didn't plan that. They've taken over!), etc *  
  
Part One  
  
Crawford stared at the papers spread across his desk. Well, the coffee table. A small cardboard sign, given to him by Schuldig on his last birthday, tugged a tight grin from him, but only because it reflected too accurately how he was feeling.  
  
-I'm going to have a nervous breakdown as soon as I have time.- it read. Schuldig's display of affection had surprised him at the time, especially as he had had no intention of celebrating his birthday. And he'd been under the impression that Schuldig had hated him.  
  
Right now, he didn't have the faintest idea how his part time boyfriend felt inclined towards him. And, for that matter, neither did said boyfriend. Crawford frowned at his own mental use of the word 'boyfriend' but shrugged it off. A few days ago Schuldig's shields had collapsed unexpectedly and he no longer had any idea who he was. Occasionally he'd be able to struggle back to who he was, but the constant influx of other people's thoughts left him in a sea of confusion. Crawford desperately wished they could get out of Tokyo to somewhere where Schuldig's tortures mind would be under less stress and he could recover, but they just couldn't.  
  
Crawford started at a sudden sound. Or rather at the sudden cessation of a sound. Screams. He leapt to his feet and dashed into one of the two bedrooms their current abode had.  
  
Nagi, who'd been going through yet another social withdrawal was pinned to the floor of the room he, Crawford and Schuldig were currently being forced to share by Farferello, who'd been out of it for several days now. Crawford cursed bitterly and yanked the Irishman off of the boy, who immediately curled up against the wall. Crawford shouted for Schuldig before noticing him in an identical position to Nagi, apparently unaware that he wasn't Nagi. Crawford desperately pinned the smaller man to the ground and after a great deal of wrestling managed to get him into a straitjacket.  
  
Leaving Farferello to squirm around on the floor, spitting Gaelic profanities, Crawford turned his attention to Nagi. He wasn't badly cut, but Crawford had to sit on him to straighten him enough to find this out. Nagi lay limp and listless on the ground, dull eyes gazing blankly up at Crawford. Brad cursed himself silently as he stroked the boy's hair away from his face and carried him out to the main room to lie him on the couch. Judging by the shallowness of the wounds, Schuldig had at least been active for part of the fight.  
  
Nagi occasionally (often, if Crawford was being honest with himself, especially recently) slipped into bouts of depression. He'd spend a lot of time sleeping, almost none eating, and would spend hours doing absolutely nothing. Schuldig was usually the one to bring him out of it, with cajoling and coaxing words and offers. He'd slipped into one of his bouts a few days ago, after coming home from school with a variety of bruises. He begged Brad to allow him home schooling, or just no schooling, but it was something Brad had always been firm on.  
  
Nagi lay quietly while Brad dressed his wounds and generally cleaned him up. He knew that if Schuldig was still lost in Nagi's head, he'd be getting all the psychological benefits of this tender care as well. On the other hand, by now he could be Farferello, or even Brad.  
  
"Is there anything you'd like to talk about?" Brad asked awkwardly. "I mean, what's getting you down?" Nagi was stone silent, and Brad sighed. He knew he wasn't going to get anything out of the youngest assassin for at least three days.  
  
Schuldig wandered into the room. "It's too small," he declared suddenly. "How can four of them live in a place like that?" Crawford frowned up at him. Wonderful, they were about to have a visitor who knew who they were, it seemed.  
  
Leaving Nagi on the couch and Schuldig conducting someone else's private monologue, Crawford scooped up the papers from the desk and tried not to wince at the large number of outstanding bills the pile contained. They hadn't had a job in weeks, and with Schwarz in its current state they weren't likely to get one. Farferello's medicine seemed to have run out as well, hence his current writhing state on the floor of the bedroom the other three shared. Brad scooped him up and put him into his own room. Well, the broom cupboard with a futon squeezed between the two walls.  
  
Just to maintain appearances, Brad opened the door before the doorbell rang. The bell had stopped working a few weeks ago anyway. 


	2. Chapter 2

Part Two  
  
Brad stepped backwards involuntarily, and the woman stepping inside. She was swathed from head to foot in material, even her mouth was covered. Shawls and scarves and wraps shimmered around her lithe body. He arms were encased in long gloves.  
  
"Tanya," Brad said stiffly. "Long time no see."  
  
"Buttercup," she said shortly. He gave her a blank look. "You never call, baby, when you say you will, but I love you still. Build me up, Buttercup." she sang sweetly. Nagi's head appeared over the top of the couch, staring at this strange women singing in English with an accent he'd never heard before.  
  
"What are you doing here?" Brad demanded. He'd thought, no, he'd hoped he'd never see the clairvoyant again.  
  
"SS is gone. I know you had something to do with it." She paused, and unwrapped the gauzy material that covered her mouth for a moment. Like a snake, her tongue darted out and in again, tasting the air. "Well, I see our little telekinetic had something to do with it."  
  
Brad winced at the reminder of Tanya's immense power. She could find out your life history just by breathing in a little of the air you had exhaled. There were no secrets from her. Brad felt a dull pain as he remembered how, up until a few weeks ago, living with Schuldig had often produced the same reaction within him.  
  
"I'll keep it short," the imposing woman told him. "I'm going to do something. Quite what, I'm not sure, but I need you in. Schwarz were the most potent team we had, after the original Weiss A/N: I haven't heard the CDs, but I know the original Weiss is at least mentioned in them. If someone knows what their exact origins were and cares to correct me here, I'm going to pretend SS supplied Grandfather Takatori or Kritiker or whoever with the original materiel. I need you if I'm to rebuild anything of this enterprise.  
  
"I also need to you start tracking down the several Rogue psis there are at the moment. Seventeen, in all, I think. Three are Pyrokinetic's, who, as soon as they heard the news, burnt down the training facilities and headquarters."  
  
"What are you going to do?" Brad said slowly, purposefully.  
  
"I want to rebuild the organisation, but with different aims. The training facility is going to be the first thing that changes, and treatment of psis, agents or not. Also, I want to find placements for our current teams, but I have no intention of building any more."  
  
Brad felt slightly confused, but bottled it up. So, no more assassin teams? No more rigorous training? No more 'only 7% graduate, try and be amongst them'? He knew it was a good idea, but he recognised the twinge of jealousy as it wrapped its claws around his heart. They had undergone exquisite torture of the mind and body, and it didn't seem fair. It didn't seem fair at all that no one else would have to suffer as they had.  
  
"What sort of placements?" he asked guardedly.  
  
"Permanent ones. Preferably in semi-legal positions. Like when you were acting as bodyguards. Kritiker aren't interested in any more teams at the moment, but I'm working on it. At least three governments have unofficially reached out us, private matters only, of course. Several politicians would be grateful to have groups like Schwarz within their employ. Would you be willing to go back to that, or would you rather remain freelance?"  
  
"The old situation worked ok," Schuldig said suddenly. He seemed to be going through a Schuldig based phase for the moment.  
  
"Really?" Tanya raised an eyebrow under her light hat.  
  
"Yeah. Partially freelance, but taking suggestions from a larger operation, and receiving aid from them, in time of need. Guided, but not controlled."  
  
"I like the way you phrased that. Yes, that is exactly how I'd like it to be, but having no ulterior, or even interior, motives; I don't know what I would guide you to. I thought perhaps a 'guild' like organisation could be set up."  
  
"Do we need you?" Schuldig spat.  
  
Tanya looked pointedly around, before saying, "legally, most definitely. Nagi is officially dead by this country's records, and all of your visas have run out. I know this has been on your mind, Buttercup." Brad ground his teeth. The pet name, and everything he had associated with it, came back in a rush and he wasn't keen on Tanya's constant repetition of it. "I also know you can't take Nagi to the hospital, despite his malnourished state, because Social Services would take him from you. In less than a week the authorities will be breaking this little family unit up."  
  
"But if we do as you 'suggest' and help you, you'll be able to stop all that?" Brad didn't like where this was going.  
  
"Look, I have to admit I haven't got everything planned out yet. I found out you were in trouble yesterday and flew out here to see what I could do. I know you don't want to be broken up, and I will do my best to prevent that happening.  
  
"I'll offer you a deal, which is what your inner businessman seems to be clamouring for, right Buttercup? You all need a little R&R. Nagi needs to see a councillor, Schuldig needs to be somewhere with a much lower human population density to find himself and rebuild his shields, Farferello needs a new course of medication and you, Buttercup, need someone else to take responsibility for all of this before you have a nervous breakdown. I need someone to help me get into some of the archive files. I know Nagi will be able to do this. So, you all come to Germany with me, spend some time recovering and enjoying the scenery, Nagi gives me a little help, and we'll take it from there. I can either have you flown back out here, or you can stay in Germany."  
  
Brad didn't want to admit how good the plan sounded. He did need someone to take the burden of responsibility from his shoulders, just for a little while. He knew why Atlas had let Hercules take the world for a little while so readily. "You said something about hunting rogue psis," he cursed himself for bringing it back up, but he knew it had to be done.  
  
"I did. If you do that for me, more benefits can be arranged. We'll sort out the legal aspects regardless, but I'm sure we could find much more suitable living quarters for such esteemed members of the old organisation."  
  
"We'll do it," Schuldig said suddenly, voicing Brad's thoughts. "Damn, he's in my head."  
  
"Good to hear it," Tanya said, slightly unnerved and unsure to whom the comment should be addressed. "Runway seven, four pm today. It's a private plane. Bring what you like. You'll enjoy the challenge the archives will present," she added to Nagi before sweeping out of the door.  
  
Nagi stared at her retreating back with a faint glimmer of an interest Brad had thought was dead. 


	3. Chapter 3

Part Three  
  
They had been in Germany for three weeks now and Brad finally found that he could relax enough to enjoy their little, long overdue, holiday. He'd spent the first week worrying about how Nagi's depression was being coped with, the second Schuldig's shielding, and the third Farferello's sudden interest in cooking.  
  
Nagi was the main worry. His 'councillor' was a telempath. In Brad's mind, this was the psychic equivalent of lots and lots of 'happy pills', something several doctors had tried to prescribe for Nagi. Fortunately, Nagi would touch nothing in pill form and his pathological fear of needles prompted questions Brad had no intention of asking. The telempath was a nice girl though; shy, hiding her face behind large floppy hats and huge glasses, but as nice as they come. Brad just worried about whether Nagi would suffer withdrawal when they went back to Tokyo. The girl clearly would never cope in a large city.  
  
Then there was Schuldig, who seemed to have regressed somewhat. He was finally managing to get his shields back up, with a little help via videophone from one of the only two other telepaths, who was currently living in the centre of Iceland. He kept forgetting, not who he was, but when he was. There were times when he didn't recognise any of the other members of Schwarz, and these times were growing more common. He seemed to be shielding his own thoughts from himself. On the other hand, when he was aware of where, why, when and who he was, he was absolutely devoted to Brad and Brad's own pleasure and leisure during their stay in Germany. Brad was touched in ways he'd never thought he would be.  
  
And Farferello. They were not only letting him near knives, they were encouraging him to use them. And spatulas. For some reason the spatulas bugged Brad more than the knives. He had known Farferello loved knives. But a tool used to flip pancakes and pry burnt remains from the bottom of the frying pan? Brad wondered if he should trust Farf's cooking. Last time he had cooked for Schwarz, several years ago now, he had made Haggis. It had been a nice haggis, until Brad found himself trying to remember which animals haggis came from, and suddenly recalled that Farferello had cooked and perhaps animals weren't the issue here. He'd managed to put Schuldig off the meal as well, which was quite and accomplishment, but even Schuldig drew the line a possible cannibalism.  
  
Brad stretched out on the bed. He smiled to himself. Since the destruction of SS, Schwarz hadn't known what to do with themselves, and everything Brad had tried had just been a distraction from the ultimate truth: they were defunct. But now. now perhaps they weren't.  
  
Brad heard the door open, but didn't look up. He had known Schuldig would come and see him. "Where do we stand?" Schuldig mused softly.  
  
Brad sat up sharply. Damn, that had been exactly what he'd been thinking. "Damn." Schuldig said sharply. Crawford concentrated hard on the differences between himself and Schuldig. It took a few minutes, but eventually self-awareness crept back into Schuldig's eyes.  
  
"You think I'm sexier than you are?" he asked softly. Brad flushed. Schuldig smirked at him. "Well thank you, but let me tell you, your pretty damn fine yourself. Why do you have to analyse everything all the time?" he whined suddenly. "Our relationship works, why do you need to know why it does? If we talk about it, it might cease to work!"  
  
"If it's that fragile, perhaps it's not worth it," Brad suggested softly. He patted the bed beside him, gesturing for Schuldig to sit next to him. The German sprawled his body across the bed, looping an arm around Brad's waist and hooking a leg over one of his. The sudden physical intimacy startled Brad, but he knew that that was why Schuldig had done it. That, and he needed the reassurance that there were two separate bodies in the room.  
  
"It is worth it, I think," Schuldig whispered. Brad found himself sinking down in the bed slightly, and Schuldig rested his head on the older man's chest. Brad ran his fingers through the flaming hair. "I mean, I like this."  
  
"So do I," Brad murmured. "How did we get here?" he asked rhetorically.  
  
"I set out to seduce you, but you recognised this and figured perhaps sex might be a good way to control me, since nothing else was working. So, we had lots of sex for about a fortnight, then you dumped me." Schuldig frowned. "Why?"  
  
Brad flinched at the sudden answer. "I ended it. It wasn't your fault," he said, twisting his fingers in Schuldig's long hair. "I knew it was going to happen-"  
  
"Vision?" Schuldig demanded.  
  
"Yes, a vision. And when I thought about it, I could see why. You had achieved your objective in turning the formerly straight as a plank Bradley Crawford, so there was nothing left for you in the relationship. I found it did nothing for my control over you. It made sense."  
  
"Yeah right."  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?" Brad demanded, hurt.  
  
"It made sense in your head. It never made sense to anyone or anything else." Schuldig slid his hand under Brad's shirt, by way of apology for his harsh, but true, words. "So, I set out to seduce Yohji. I succeeded. You convinced yourself it was something you sanctioned, as it threw him into confusion. Got over that quickly, the bastard," Schuldig added suddenly. "Anyway, so I set out to seduce Aya. I stopped after a while, because my namesake starts tugging at my heart strings."  
  
Brad stared at him. He'd never thought there was more to Schuldig's sudden cessation of interest in Aya than reason he brought about himself. Schuldig grinned at him. "Your shielding is so damned good I had no idea how jealous I was making you. It wasn't until later I realised that it was your reaction, and your inability to deny yourself, that made you come around. Once I did, however, "Schuldig suddenly added with unusual gravity, "I recognised the motive of my own actions. I wanted you to be jealous. I was mad that you dumped me, and I wanted you to hurt, but I didn't realise I wanted you back. Oh, and Aya was so pathetically in love with Yohji I felt bad for not being Yohji myself."  
  
"So, we both came around to the idea that perhaps there had been more to our fortnight than the fucking," Brad supplied thoughtfully, continuing the trip down memory lane himself. "Then there was that mission with just the two of us, and one thing led to another. And then, about a week later, you came to me and we did it again. And so on and so forth."  
  
Schuldig sat up slightly, to stare into his lover's eyes. "No wonder you want to know where we stand. I don't have the faintest idea what our relationship is either, and I don't like it."  
  
"Ok, so." Brad wrapped both arms around Schuldig, "at least we can say relationship. So what are we, occasional bedmates?"  
  
"Yeah." A memory stung Schuldig suddenly; "'Part-time boyfriend'?" he asked. "Replace part with full and I'm happy. You?"  
  
Brad was startled. Schuldig was asking him to commit? Schuldig? His silence stung Schuldig to keep on talking.  
  
"I know that sex is a power thing for you. I've known a lot of people for whom it was the same thing. But we also know that it doesn't give you any power over me. And for me, when I'm not being used in these power struggles by underachievers, sex is a game. I enjoyed seducing and chasing, and sex was just the confirmation I won. But we established that the game never actually took place between us, so that's pretty defunct too." Schuldig was aware he was babbling, but at least it meant he didn't have to think, and, more importantly, he didn't have to worry about what Brad was thinking. "And yet, we're still doing this. And it bothered both of us when it stopped. I mean, it's great sex, but there's definitely an emotional attachment associated with it. Otherwise I wouldn't have got mad and you wouldn't have got jealous. And-"  
  
"Enough," Brad said. Schuldig fell silent.  
  
Brad hugged the younger man closer to him. He had been telling the truth when he'd mentioned his heterosexuality earlier, and the effect Schuldig had had on his previously firm self-beliefs. And he was glad it had been Schuldig who had enlightened him. There was something about the absolutely tactless, completely irrepressible, dubiously sane, sadistically happy younger man. Brad felt they. they 'complemented' each other. What one lacked the other made up. And Schuldig was clearly as confused and nervous about this sudden wealth of emotion that threatened to overwhelm them both as he was.  
  
"I think we should take it more slowly," Brad said quietly. "We have a monogamous sexual relationship and we work and live together. This is rarely a good situation."  
  
Schuldig looked so pathetically mournful Brad gave him a sympathetic squeeze. "But if any one can make it work, we can," he murmured in the younger man's ear.  
  
"We're going to fuck now?" Schuldig asked bluntly.  
  
"That's the plan," Brad laughed. 


	4. Chapter 4

Part Four  
  
Nagi tapped away happily at the keyboard. He'd spent the last half hour chatting to his cyber boyfriend, of whom Brad knew nothing, and for good reason. Tash hadn't seemed to mind, watching but not reading the conversation. Nagi had explained he'd never met the boy in person, and that it was much better that way, especially considering what he did and how the other member's of Schwarz might react, but he hadn't been able to escape a pang of sadness at the idea he could never be in a real relationship. Natasha had helpfully told him that 'Koneko' was happy just talking to him like this, in fact, it felt like the highlight of the young man's day. Sometimes being friends with an empathy so powerful knew how someone on the other side of the world felt was a very good thing.  
  
But no he was working again, after Tanya's impromptu visit. He'd fought through layers of encryption and coding to a single page of text. Nagi glanced up at the young telempath. "Natasha?" he asked softly, praying he wasn't mangling the English name  
  
"Call me Tash, everyone does," she told him yet again.  
  
"'Kay, Tash. Um, I found something." Tash leant over his shoulder, already very aware of how nervous the younger boy's discovery had made him. She sent him reassuring happy feelings to calm him down.  
  
"I think this is one of the things Tanya wanted to know," she said, stroking Nagi's hair with one hand will she used the mouse to scroll through the information. A word caught her eye. "Oh dear," she sighed, "it's as we feared."  
  
"What?" Nagi's curiosity swept over Tash and she struggled not to succumb to it too.  
  
"Um, I'm not sure I can tell you." She gave him a pointed look as he pleaded with his eyes, until he suddenly caught what the look meant. His eyes swung back to the screen.  
  
"Sterilised!" he yelped.  
  
"Uh huh. I think there were fears over what would happen in a psi had children, or if two psis had kids together. This confirms what Tanya had already guessed, but we're still looking for why. Might be just security to make sure no psi finds him or herself with loyalties to something other than S, might be something genetic. We don't know yet. That's why we need you to keep looking." She squeezed his shoulder gently and went to leave, preparing to take the news to her boss.  
  
"Wait! Would I, I mean, I was only, so would I, you know, would they."  
  
"Yes," Tash said softly, and fled. Nagi's emotional reaction was more than she could bear. Anger, horror, self-pity, self-loathing, hatred, pity for the other psis, sadness. Tash ran.  
  
* * *  
  
Schuldig dragged Brad out into the sunshine. Brad let himself be lead down to a gently meandering river, and watched contentedly as Schuldig started to strip off.  
  
"You going to swim too?" Schuldig demanded. "Why not? Come on, it's hot and the water will be cool and refreshing." Brad laughed and shook his head, reclining on the soft lawn. Schuldig shrugged and continued to take of his clothes, making a show of it for Brad. His muscles rippled as he pulled his shirt over his head and he gave Brad a nice view of his butt as he took off his trousers. Nothing Brad hadn't seen before, but it felt different seeing Schuldig naked like this, not about to have sex. Schuldig gave him a wave before jumping head first into the river.  
  
Brad stretched out, and frowned. Their wonderful piece was about to be disturbed. A redhead more annoying than Schuldig and Aya put together, if that was possible.  
  
"Hello, Brenned Engel," he scowled up at the Irish pyrokinetic.  
  
"Ye've been talking to Jei agin, ha'an't ye?" The Irish man scowled back. "The name's Bran."  
  
"Bran, Bren, Brian," Schuldig seesawed his hand back and forth, unselfconsciously naked in front of the older man.  
  
Bran shrugged irritably and took out a cigarette, placing it between his lips and using his power to light it. It was no secret that the twenty-five year old was dying of cancer, but no one had yet been able to convince him this was because he smoked, not because he could set stuff on fire. Since meeting him, Schuldig had cut back on his own cigarette intake, and it seemed to Brad that the younger man was seriously considering giving up. He knew that if he asked, Schuldig would never touch another cigarette, but he felt it should be Schuldig's decision alone.  
  
"I was just here te tell ye'll that Tanya wants ye oop in te min office. Looks like ye'll be off home soon!" he sauntered away.  
  
"He didn't have to look so happy about it," Schuldig whined. He stare down at his dripping form, which was taking up rather a lot of Brad's attention too. "Think we've got time for a roll in the grass before she comes after us?"  
  
"Yes. Besides, we need to get you dried off before you get dressed again, don't we?" Brad pulled the younger man down onto the grass. "Undress me," he murmured.  
  
* * *  
  
"Wonderful. We've been waiting here while you too are at it again." Tanya glowered at the two men as they strode into the room. Tash gave them a delighted smile. "So, do you want to go back to Japan?" Tanya asked bluntly.  
  
"We've discussed this," judging by the look on Tanya's face this was something she hadn't picked up on yet, much to Brad's gratification, "and yes, we all want to go back. Schwarz have a well-developed reputation there and several customers."  
  
"Yes. There are two psis I'd like you to take down once you get back. In return, I will supply you with a more spacious living arrangement, bills fully paid for the next six months. You will all receive medical attention form the healers I'm also sending out. Have any of you had blood tests or any other bodily fluids?"  
  
All of Schwarz shook their heads, having some how managed to avoid this piece of medical etiquette.  
  
"Good. Don't. Evidence suggests there may be something that can be picked up, especially in the blood and spinal fluid, that is linked to your psychic abilities. We're looking into this, of course."  
  
Nagi was chewing on his lip. "Can I tell them?"  
  
"What? Oh, If you must," Tanya dismissively waved her hand.  
  
"We've all been sterilised," Nagi said mournfully. Schuldig's jaw dropped, while Crawford's tightened.  
  
"Really? I had wondered." Crawford turned to Tanya. "Any idea why?"  
  
"We're looking into it," she said vaguely.  
  
"You look into a lot of things, why don't you look into-" Schuldig began threateningly, but Crawford stopped him.  
  
"So, on the next plane back?"  
  
"Yes. The details of the two ex-agents will be supplied on the flight, though I suggest you get as mush sleep as possible to combat jetlag." Tanya gave them a nod, and left.  
  
"We'll miss you here, it was very pleasant having you," Tash said earnestly. Even Farferello looked touched.  
  
"We enjoyed our stay immensely," Crawford assured her. Tash beamed.  
  
"Yeah, and no little thanks to you," Schuldig added. "Shame you can't come to Tokyo with us."  
  
"Oh no, I never could! Just being here is a strain sometimes, and Tokyo has the largest human population density of anywhere! I don't know how you manage, Schuldig!" she exclaimed breathlessly. Brad found it slightly amusing, but rather less slightly annoying, when he realised the girl was quite taken with the German.  
  
Schuldig shrugged off the compliment uncomfortably. "There's only three living telepaths of any power in the world, and you're the strongest," Tash continued. "I'm the only telempath of any consequence, actually, but thoughts and emotions are different like that." Like what? the others wondered, but didn't ask. "So, yes, have a good journey. Tanya says that you're specifically to call this time, Mr Crawford. Not like last time. There's two numbers, one for SS business and one for you to call her like you promised years ago." Crawford took the paper unresistingly, wondering what Schuldig thought of all this. Surely he must know? But did he, considering his current and previous state? "So, yes, bye!" Tash suddenly, impulsively, bent forwards to give each Schwarz member a kiss on the cheek before running out of the door, blushing furiously. 


	5. Chapter 5

Part Five  
  
Brad ran through the two sheets. African American, illusionist, male, name of Joseph. Indian, healer, female, name of Shivani. Living together above a sushi restaurant.  
  
"Why?" Nagi asked suddenly. "There's no sign either of them has done anything. Why should we kill them just because they don't want to be SS anymore?"  
  
Schuldig gave the kid an odd look. "It's what we do, kiddo. Remember? We kill the people we're told to, no questions asked. Besides, she didn't actually say kill. She said take down. I think she'd be grateful if we brought them back to the fold."  
  
"No." They turned to look at Farferello. "They have to die."  
  
"We can't kill them just because they're innocent. Besides they worked for SS, so that's hardly likely anyway," Schuldig objected.  
  
"That's not what he meant," Brad interjected softly. He held up another piece of paper. "He's using his power to kill. Persuade people there's no cliff, and so on. They're working for a contractor."  
  
"What about her? I mean, healer?" Nagi persisted. Crawford frowned at the sudden attack of conscience in the boy. It was not unexpected, but it was new.  
  
"If she can heal she can harm," Schuldig told the boy. Something in his tone prompted Nagi not to ask any more questions.  
  
"This shouldn't be hard as long as we take them by surprise. They'll be expecting an attack form the remnants of SS, of course, and no doubt they know about Schwarz." Brad looked at his team. "Farferello, pose as someone who's heard of Shivani's healing abilities. She's been healing for money as well. Tell her you want to know if she can do anything about your scars, and especially your eye.  
  
"She'll recognise you immediately as an SS agent, you're infamous. However, it is extremely unlikely that she will be aware of your unusual pain tolerance due to SS's reluctance to hand out information about it's agents in case something like this occurs. Schuldig, monitor him. Nagi and I will enter via the roof; see, there's a vent here and we can get up form the neighbouring building; and I will shoot the illusionist while Nagi and Farferello take out the healer. Understood?"  
  
There was a chorus of yeses. Well, two yeses. Schuldig just nodded tersely.  
  
It was about an hour later, when both Nagi and Farferello had fallen asleep, that Schuldig approached Brad. He slid himself into the seat next to Brad's and lent forwards so his elbows were resting on his knees. The advantage of a private plane was that all seats were first class, and he didn't whack his head on the seat in front by doing this.  
  
"Brad?"  
  
"Yes?" Brad put down his book and turned to look and the moody redhead.  
  
"I'm a little hurt."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Monitor him? Come on, you know my talents could be invaluable here. Hell, I could take them both out on my own."  
  
"I know," Brad sighed and lent back. He'd been waiting for this. "But not at the moment. You're not stable enough. I can't risk you losing your shields or getting confused in the middle of the mission. It's best if you remain a look out and work communications."  
  
"Do you honestly think I would allow that to happen?"  
  
"I don't think it's a matter of what you would or would not allow. You've forgotten who Nagi was twice today, and failed to recognise Farferello once- "  
  
"And I mistook you for someone else, which is what this is really about, isn't it? You're hurt that despite everything between us, I slipped back to a point before you came into my life and failed to recognise you whilst knowing that I knew you intimately, so I assumed you must be someone else."  
  
"Who is Greg to you?"  
  
"Who is Tanya to you?"  
  
"I was wondering when you'd bring that up," Brad winced.  
  
"You think it would bother me that you, once upon a long time ago, had a crush on the ice queen? It doesn't." But it bothered Brad. Especially the fact that Schuldig apparently didn't give a damn. He wanted Schuldig to get jealous, he realised, like he had been jealous while Schuldig was fooling around with the Weiss boys.  
  
"Look, this has nothing to do with any of that," said Schuldig, determinedly sticking to his point, almost uncharacteristically so. "You've sidelined me. I don't want to be sidelined. You need me. At least let me go in with Farferello. If they know anything about him they'll know no one would leave him alone with anyone, no matter how sane he seemed."  
  
"They'll probably know about you as well, and they'll know what you can do. Remember what Tash said? One of only three telepaths, the strongest of the three, and the only one able to live around large numbers of people."  
  
"Where id the other one live?" Schuldig asked, slightly curious.  
  
"The Sahara," Brad told him.  
  
"Oh, okay. Anyway, if they know who Farferello is, and they know who I am, chances are they know all about Schwarz. The minute we go in there they'll be expecting an attack. The more of us enter via the front door, the less they'll expect any other way."  
  
"And if she decides to use her power to shred your organs without even touching you?" Brad snapped.  
  
"Okay, so Nagi go in with Farferello. He has more chance of blocking that kind of attack. I, meanwhile, ought to be able to decipher any illusion your fellow American comes up with. You'll need me in there. Suppose he presents multiple versions of himself? Which will you shoot? I would know which was the real one."  
  
"I'm going to regret this." Brad moaned.  
  
"I knew it!" Schuldig crowed. "You're going to let me play!" He grabbed the older man in a hug, a stark contrast to his previous sombre behaviour.  
  
"One thing," Brad cautioned.  
  
"Yeah?" Schuldig seemed distracted, glancing back at the plane's small toilet. Brad frowned. Did Schuldig need to go? He couldn't abide the cramped and unhygienic aircraft toilets, and tried to dissuade anyone from using them.  
  
"Do not, I repeat, do not try to influence them in anyway. You're still a little clumsy, and they'd know immediately. And I really don't want you to get lost in the head of someone I'm going to kill."  
  
"That all? I wasn't intending to. Better the devils you know, and all that," Schuldig winked. "So, ever done it at forty thousand feet?" Brad's jaw dropped. So that was what Schuldig had been thinking about.  
  
"No," he said huskily.  
  
"Wanna do the whole play acting 'meet me in there in ten minutes' thing too?" Schuldig squeezed Brad's arm.  
  
"We can't do it just here?" Brad squeezed back.  
  
"Come one, we're in a plane! You have to do these things properly. Besides, we wouldn't want to wake the babies." With that, Schuldig slid from his seat and sauntered towards the rear of the plane. Brad sat back in his seat and counted away the seconds.  
  
* * *  
  
The sushi shop was closer to the private airstrip than their new apartment, and they'd all slept well on the plane (eventually), so Crawford suggested a little recon before checking out their new home. His BMW was parked and waiting for them, and he had to restrain himself form checking over every inch of it in front of the plane and airstrip crew. Instead, he pulled over as soon as they were out of site and did it.  
  
They parked about half a mile from the sushi shop and set off. Schuldig broke his word and skimmed over the minds of their targets, unnoticed. He told the others that both targets were at home and unsuspecting. They'd have no time to prepare, if Schwarz were to act now. Brad quickly went over the changes in plan with Nagi and Farferello, who'd both had their doubts about the original anyway.  
  
It worked like a charm. Shivani had almost fainted upon seeing Farferello, but had had to take him up to the apartment to avoid arousing suspicion. Crawford and Schuldig were already within the flat when Farferello, Nagi and Shivani entered the front room.  
  
Schuldig grinned down at the naked man on the bed. "Not him," he told Crawford. He winked at the clothed man holding a long rifle. "Not him either," he said. Walking over to the wardrobe, he yanked out a much smaller, much uglier guy and waved him in front of Crawford's face. Crawford drew his gun, but Schuldig dropped the guy. "Not him either." The limp form flickered for a moment; before it's original form could be seen. "Sex doll. Bet you'd have felt stupid shooting that?" Schuldig smirked. He snatched Crawford's gun from him suddenly and shot the window frame. Brad turned to see blood appearing on the carpet, but no one to bleed. Slowly, as the man's concentration gave, a body appeared and slumped to the carpet. "Him," Schuldig said shortly, still smirking.  
  
Farferello was happily having his insides twisted and churned by the healer, who seemed reluctant to kill. Nagi watched for a moment, preventing the worst of the intended wounds. When he heard the gunshot in the bedroom, he gave the signal to Farferello, who promptly began to do manually to the woman what she had been trying to do to him. The faded crimson of the walls rapidly regained its vigour.  
  
They regrouped in the tiny bathroom, so Farferello could be cleaned off so as not to attract too much attention. Crawford had removed the bullet from the wound, and Nagi had carefully cleaned the knives Farferello had taken from the kitchen and replaced them where they came from. By the time they had finished, there were no clues as to who had been there. Climbing out of the bedroom window and splitting up to regroup at the car, Schuldig caught Nagi's thought that they had 'been doing this way too long'. 


	6. Chapter 6

Part Six  
  
A/N: in the original version of this, Nagi's incredibly OOC towards the end of the chapter. I've altered it, but there's only so much I can do to repair the damage. For some reason I was modelling him on Dawn from Buffy.   
  
They stared in open eyes wonderment. The apartment was huge. In unspoken agreement the split up to explore. One huge main living room, with full entertainment system; one perfectly equipped kitchen, complete with locks on the drawers to keep Farferello from getting to the knives; a padded bedroom with strengthened walls and a steel door, also for Farferello, with considerably more furniture than he was used to; a study with walls lined with empty bookshelves, a state of the art PC with all the extras and an oak desk for Crawford; a medium sized room containing a futon, also with a state of the art PC and all the add-ons, as well as the latest games consoles, a laptop, and a palm pilot, to keep Nagi happy; and a huge bedroom with king-sized bed, a large sofa, television, bookshelves, desks, everything. All of the bedrooms had ensuite bathrooms, something Nagi had wanted for ages, after almost using Schuldig's lubricant instead of toothpaste.  
  
Schuldig wandered around for a while, feeling slightly left out. A melancholy mood settled on him and he sank into the sofa in the main room. He couldn't even summon the energy to switch on the television. The lethargy was odd, and he wondered vaguely if this was how Nagi felt when he was going through one of his depressive kicks. Oh, and it seemed Brad's fears were unfounded, judging by the boy's squeals of delight he wasn't about to sink into anything other than the futon for a while.  
  
"Hey," Brad settled himself next to Schuldig. "What's wrong?"  
  
Schuldig shook his head.  
  
"No, tell me. You're the mind reader, not me." When this failed to elicit a response, brad rested his arm across Schuldig's shoulders. "So, how come you're out here rather than checking out your room?" The silence got heavier. Brad glanced around, and his mind did a quick stock take: kitchen, living room, study, Nagi's room, Farferello's room, my room. "Where's your room?" he asked slowly. Schuldig shrugged. "Oh."  
  
They sat in silence for a while. Farferello was trying out all the manacles, shackles and various chains in his room; Nagi was logged onto his chatrooms, apparently having suffered Internet withdrawal during the flight and mission. They had the room to themselves.  
  
"There's a futon in the study. I presume that was where they meant me to sleep," Brad said slowly, reluctant to give up the splendid master bedroom.  
  
"You presume nothing," Schuldig said bitterly. "They weren't expecting me to come back. I guess they thought I'd stay mad, or stay in Germany at the very least."  
  
Brad shook his head. "Schuldig, come in here," he said, leading the resisting German to the master bedroom. "Now, tell me that bed isn't a little excessive for one person. Tell me I won't get lonely in there on my own."  
  
Light dawned on Schuldig's face. "I'm gonna say Tash. She's the one who manipulated this. No wonder she seemed so smug when Tanya announced they had an apartment for us."  
  
"I don't doubt it. It's a . nice. gesture." Brad stared at the bed. It was large. But was it large enough?  
  
"You're wondering if we're ready for this?" Brad glared sharply at the oblivious Schuldig. "So am I. This is rather faster than I thought we were going to take it."  
  
"Quite. As I said, I can always sleep in my study."  
  
"Don't be stupid. You're the team leader, you get the master bedroom. I'll sleep in the study."  
  
"You're not sleeping in my study!" Brad grinned to take the sting out of the snapped remark. Schuldig grinned back.  
  
"Thought not. So, I guess we're stuck with this." He sat on the bed and flopped backwards. "Woah. Come and lie down, Brad." Brad did so, and was surprised at how far he sank. "Ok, I'm having this bed. I don't care whether we're taking it too fast by moving in like this, I'm sleeping in this bed."  
  
Brad grinned. "Moving in together? We've been living together for four years now."  
  
"Yeah, we were living together, but we haven't been living together living together," Schuldig said, as if this made sense. "Now we're going to be sharing a bed full time. Anything I should know?" he grinned.  
  
"We've shared a bed overnight before," Brad reminded him. "Several times while in Germany, as I recall."  
  
"Yeah. Ok, we both snore, I move a lot at night, you're pathologically neat and fold up my clothes when I dump them on the floor before sex."  
  
"I don't snore!"  
  
"You do too!" Schuldig rolled over. "Wanna fight it out?" he grinned. Brad grinned back. Ok, so it was faster than he'd planned, but perhaps that was good. They could make this relationship work. With Schuldig's telepathy and his precognitive abilities, they should be able to avoid major rows and keep off each other's toes. Of course, Schuldig would probably make a point of staying on Brad's toes, but as long as he stayed on his own Brad didn't really mind. The teasing stopped him from turning back into Marvin the Paranoid Android, as he'd once been nicknamed.  
  
Schuldig pressed down on Brad, kissing him. Brad squirmed, not likely to be underneath. Schuldig grinned, and pinned him down, rubbing his demined crotch against the expensive wool of Brad's suit. A moan escaped from Brad's lips.  
  
A knock on the door made them freeze, and Schuldig stared icicles at Nagi as he poked his head around the door.  
  
"I was going to order. oh. Oh! Oooh!" Nagi blushed at them. "Um."  
  
"Um-mm?" Schuldig glowered at him.  
  
"You two.Um." Brad gave the boy an odd look. Schuldig suddenly grinned.  
  
"Get used to it, kid."  
  
"I already did, ages ago." Nagi keptblushing, depsite his cavalier tone. "It's great that you two get your own bedroom! Alone together!" He told them earnestly. "Oh, I was about to order Pizza. Any requests?" Nagi jigged up and down from one foot to the other, clearly pleased that two of the people he cared were able to make each other happy, but still very aware he was intruding. Schuldig felt a twinge of sadness at the family stencil the boy was trying to impose over their little household. Nagi so desperately wanted to be just a little more normal.  
  
"Margarita," Brad told the still scarlet boy.  
  
"I want every topping they have on mine!" Schuldig said. "Now shoo! And don't come back 'till the pizzas here. And knock!"  
  
"I did!" Nagi retorted as he slipped out of the room again.  
  
"I honestly didn't expect him to be so accepting of the idea there was something going on between us. I didn't even realise he knew." Brad said softly.  
  
"Yeah well. We had one room between the three of us. Exactly how blind deaf and dumb did we think the kid was?" Schuldig rested his head on Brad's chest, lazily listening to the older man's heartbeat. "I worry about him," he murmured. "He wants us to be a family. He thinks we're getting more like a family. Plus he wants us to be happy."  
  
"Maybe we are."  
  
"What, making each other happy? You're making me very happy, I can tell you."  
  
"And you me. No, I meant about the family thing. We haven't just been co- workers for a long time. All four of us."  
  
"You think of him like a son."  
  
"Yes, sometimes. And with this new revelation it seems he's going to be the closest thing I'll ever have to one."  
  
"So, we're turning into a family. Know something funny?"  
  
"What?" Brad stroked Schuldig's hair.  
  
"Weiss haven't. They're willing to risk their lives for each other, but they're not really getting any closer. Omi's everyone's friend, and Ken and Yohji are, well, drinking buddies, I guess. Aya still holds himself separate."  
  
"I thought you said he was in love with Yohji?"  
  
"He is. You don't have to be a telepath to see that. Look at the way they fight. The sentiment's returned too. But until Weiss started caring for each other like we do, nothing's going to happen."  
  
"I almost feel sorry for them."  
  
"Almost." Schuldig grinned. He rolled over and pressed his lips to Brad's. "Come on, they deliver those pizzas ridiculously fast." Brad laughed and relaxed into his lover's arms. Lover. Love. 


	7. Chapter 7

*A/N: Thank you to my one reviewer so far, and to everyone else who has reviewed anything else I wrote. I tend to write these things ages before I put them up, so I won't be able to thank people each part. I've already done up to 20! I swear I'll stop before 30. Well, I'll try. I'm going to space out updating this so I have time to finish writing it without leaving everyone a six month gap before the final part. I can't stand suspense, so I won't force oodles of it on y'all. Plus, this way it'll stick around the top page longer and more people will read it! ^_^ Please R&R, I love finding 'review alerts' in my inbox. Even if it's "you're crap, stop writing now" cause I'll either demand to know why or ignore it. See, I even give you permission to flame. Especially when we hit part 56 and your eyes are falling out of your face. *  
  
  
  
Part Seven  
  
Brad woke, not sure of what had woken him. He shifted slightly, still not used to the large bed, and Schuldig's warm form beside him. Suddenly he found himself face down on the floor, his arm twisted behind his back.  
  
"Who are you? What are you doing in my bed?" Schuldig yelled in German.  
  
Brad squirmed, but the German was heavier and stronger than he was. "Schuldig," he breathed, the wind having been knocked out of him by the sharp fall from the bed to the wooden floor. "Schuldig, no."  
  
"Schulderich!?! And what am I guilty of?" Brad thought his arm would break.  
  
He thought hard. He thought about Schuldig as he knew him. He thought about the sadistic man who killed for bed and board. He thought about the vulnerable telepath who lost himself in other people. He thought about the lithe young man who had won his heart with every facet of his personality.  
  
Suddenly the pressure on his arm relaxed. He felt Schuldig's body press against his, and red hair dangled in front of his eyes. He heard the muted sobs, Schuldig's face buried between his shoulder blades. He rolled over, slowly, so that Schuldig was lying on top of him. Stroking the fine hair and making soothing noises he comforted his lover.  
  
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Schuldig murmured.  
  
"I know. It's ok. I should have known better than to wake a sleeping assassin."  
  
"It was unintentional," Schuldig picked up from his mind, and scowled. "Don't try and take the blame for something I'm guilty of. I tried to hurt you."  
  
"You were scared. You didn't really know who or where you were, and you had no idea who I was or why I was there. But you're okay now." Brad sat up carefully, not dislodging the younger man form his lap.  
  
"So are you," Schuldig admitted grudgingly. They climbed back onto the bed together and Schuldig let Brad take him in his arms and rest his head against Schuldig's back, burying his nose in the younger man's hair.  
  
A slight creak alerted them to Nagi's presence in the hall outside. Brad sat up a little, a saw a single Indigo eye staring nervously around the door at them.  
  
"You can come in," he told the boy. Nagi sidled through the open door, closing it behind him and pressing his back against it.  
  
"What's wrong?" he asked.  
  
"Uh, nothing." Nagi made to sidle out again, but Schuldig held up a hand.  
  
"Nagi, what are you doing wandering around at this time of night anyway?" Brad asked.  
  
"I, I couldn't sleep. I didn't mean to disturb you. I'll go back to bed now." He handle began to turn of its own accord, Nagi's hands still clutched together in front of him.  
  
"Something's wrong. Tell me what's wrong!" Schuldig demanded suddenly, sitting bolt upright. Nagi flinched backwards. Suddenly he gave a soft cry and dropped to his knees, hands over his ears.  
  
"Stop, Schuldig, stop!" Brad shouted over Nagi's gentle moans. Schuldig paled and lay back.  
  
"I'm so sorry," he whimpered, "I'm so sorry, Nagi. I, I was clumsy. I hurt you. I'm sorry!"  
  
"That's. okay," Nagi mumbled.  
  
"Come here," Brad said. Nagi obeyed. "What's wrong?" Nagi looked away, standing at the foot of the bed.  
  
"He had a nightmare," Schuldig supplied. "About before. Nagi, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pried. Are you going to be okay?"  
  
"Ye-es, I think so. My head hurts a little, and I'm kinda confused. It's all jumbled. You disordered my nice neat mind!" he accused Schuldig, who looked as confused as Nagi felt.  
  
"Come here," Brad said again. Nagi climbed onto the bed, sitting at the end.  
  
"Nagi, come and curl up between us. It'll help you calm down. It was a horrid nightmare," Schuldig said. Brad frowned with concern at Schuldig's language. It was rather young, even for him. "When you have a nightmare, you come and sleep for a bit in your parents bed and it's comforting and warm and gets rid of the nightmares and helps you sleep." Now Nagi was giving Schuldig odd looks as well, but it seemed that he had been thinking somewhat along the same lines as the older man, judging by his appearance at their door.  
  
Schuldig drew the youth into his arms and hugged him tightly. He sank down under the deep duvet cover, pulling Nagi with him. Brad sighed and lay back as well, curling one arm around both Nagi and Schuldig. He could feel Nagi's breath against his chest, and saw the worried pair of deep blue eyes stare into his own. He couldn't see much without his glasses, but he could see fear.  
  
* * *  
  
Poppop-poppop-pop-pop-pop, poppop-poppop-pop-pop-pop, poppop-poppop-poppop- poppop-poppop-poppoppop-pop-pop. Schuldig blinked sleepily across as his partner. He wished he would stop thinking. Dumde dumde dumde dum, dumde dumde dumd edum, dumde dumde dumde dumde dumde dumde dum.  
  
"Shut up!" Schuldig growled. Brad gave him a startled look. "You have had the opening to Hot Butter's Popcorn going through your head for almost an hour! Think of something else!"  
  
"I'm trying," he snarled back.  
  
"Think of something else," Schuldig snapped. His memories from last night were returning, prompted by the small body curled up between them. Nagi was still fast asleep.  
  
"Schuldig, last night."  
  
"See, and here I was trying not to think about it." Schuldig reached around Nagi's body to catch one of Brad's wrists. "How bad was I?"  
  
"You forgot who I was-"  
  
"Not that bit! I remember trying to kill you. I wish I didn't. I hurt Nagi, didn't I? I was clumsy. And then I frightened him by insisting he got into the bed with us." Schuldig wallowed in self-pity.  
  
"He was also grateful, you know. He was frightened, and it was what he wanted. It's you I'm more worried about. You, you 'regressed'."  
  
"No I didn't. I just retreated." Schuldig pulled Brad's arm over so that he was caressing his cheek. Brad stroked tendrils of hair away from the jade eyes. "I was scared. And he was scared. And I remembered when I was little, when I was less scared most of the time, that if I had a nightmare it always made it better when my parents let my curl up with them for a little while."  
  
"You're scared most of the time?" concern tinged Brad's voice, and Schuldig was touched.  
  
"Sometimes. At the moment, when I start to let go. Especially when I wake up suddenly, or get a shock, I start slipping. I don't like the shields they forced up back in Germany. I'm cut off from bits of myself." Brad had suspected that, and it worried him. "I think, I think that's why I keep retreating to my early memories. Not all of them are there any more. Bradley, I think they wanted to wipe my memory!"  
  
"It's okay," Brad soothed. "It's going to be fine. You were always resistant to that sort of thing. You just work on getting some of your own shields back up, then dismantle theirs. Don't try doing both at once, whatever you do." Again, Brad's concern warmed Schuldig's heart.  
  
"I know. I know I'm going to be fine. I don't like what they've done, especially when I can't hear anyone in my head but myself, but I'm fine. I'm just worried how every one else is taking this."  
  
"Your erratic sanity? They're coping." Brad grinned and slid one finger across Schuldig's lips. Schuldig caught it in his mouth and sucked. Brad groaned. Schuldig moved to shift closer to Brad, but a moan from Nagi stopped him short. He'd forgotten the chibi was still in their bed.  
  
He gave Brad a strained look. "I want to."  
  
"So do I," Brad wrapped his hand behind Schuldig's neck.  
  
"So what do we do?" Schuldig had dropped his voice to a self-conscious whisper.  
  
"Well, we could get up-"  
  
"No, try again."  
  
"We could make Nagi get up-"  
  
"Yes, let's do that!" Schuldig prodded the boy awake. Nagi blinked sleepily at the older assassins. "We want to have sex. Go away."  
  
Nagi flushed and scrambled out of the bed. "Nagi, it's your first day at your new school today," Brad reminded him. "Go and get ready. One of us will give you a lift in."  
  
"I will. Flash red sports car will do considerably better for first impressions than dull black BMW. You've got an image to think of."  
  
"What, introverted computer geek with no friends?" Nagi asked bitterly, before stalking out of the door.  
  
"He really wants home schooling," Brad sighed. "But I honestly don't believe either of us could provide it. Or Farferello."  
  
"Why you talk? Why you not hump me?" Schuldig chuckled, pulling Brad to him by the waistband of his boxers.  
  
"Why indeed?" 


	8. Chapter 8

Part Eight  
  
*A/N: said I wouldn't do this often, but just wanted to thank Alz-chan especially for all her wonderful reviews. You really know how to inflate my ego, don'tcha? ^_^ I'm glad you like this, there's another 12 plus parts to go, and I haven't even finished it yet! At least I actually came up with a plot before I put pen to paper. erm, fingers to keys. *  
  
Schuldig kept the roof down, and made a point of leaning with one arm resting on the car door. Nagi found the looks they got strangely reassuring. Schuldig gave two different policemen the finger, drove through four red lights and outran a cruiser than was trying to catch him for speeding. Nagi grinned and lent back, wind in his hair and the occasional fly in his eyes. He was about to ask Schuldig if he could put the roof up when they rolled to a stop.  
  
Nagi opened his eyes in alarm. They were here already? But, but.  
  
"Huh. Guess it's close enough for you to walk. Want me to come in with you?"  
  
"Uh, no, thanks, Schuldig. I'll be fine." Nagi struggled to open the door. Schuldig lent over and flipped the lock.  
  
"You sure?"  
  
"Yeah, thanks." Nagi clambered onto the pavement. Schuldig gave him one last once over.  
  
"Well, if you're sure you're not gonna get lost or anything."  
  
"I'm sure." Nagi turned to go.  
  
"You want a lift home?" Schuldig called after him.  
  
Nagi paused. Did he want? He though he had an idea of how to get back by foot. And it would be good to see how long it took, so he wouldn't be late tomorrow. But if he got lost.  
  
"No, thanks. I'll see you tonight, ok?"  
  
"Great." Nagi opened his mouth to say goodbye, but Schuldig had already thundered away in a cloud of unburnt carbon, leaving Nagi choking on the exhaust alone.  
  
Nagi walked up the steps slowly; unsure of whether he was early or late. The smiling woman in reception told him to go to classroom 366, where his tutor group was waiting to be registered.  
  
Nagi set off relatively confidently down a long white washed corridor. After passing the one hundreds, then the five hundreds, he turned to go back and ask directions from the receptionist. He was about half way down the corridor when he realised this wasn't the one he had come down, and wouldn't take him back to reception.  
  
He stared in confusion at a flight of stairs that confronted him. Steeling himself, he ascended the case, to find himself on a corridor lined with lockers, and the occasional two hundred. So was he getting closer or further away from his destination? He wandered along it in a daze, barely noticing the library from which an older boy stepped.  
  
Nagi fell back, gasping apologies as he stared at the boy he had walked into. Buried under a pile of books, the boy stared back.  
  
"Prodigy?" Omi murmured.  
  
"Bombay," Nagi said softly. Oh, this wasn't good. He offered Omi his hand to help him up, but the older boy ignored him and clambered to his feet on his own. Omi bent down again, always keeping his eyes on Nagi, to retrieve his books. Nagi felt the tension building inside of him. Why does he have to be here? an inner voice wailed. School is supposed to be safe! It's supposed to be my normal place. Weiss has no right to invade the only place where I'm not expected to kill people. Unbeknown to him, similar thoughts were running through Omi's head.  
  
Nagi clutched his bag to himself as he watched the blond boy stand up again. His knuckles were turning white.  
  
"What are you doing here?" Omi asked sharply.  
  
"I, I'm looking for room 366 and I can't even find the three hundreds and I was going to go back and ask for directions but the reception was gone and there were just stairs and I'm late and it's my first day here and I can't believe I messed up already!!" Nagi panted, amazed at his own outburst.  
  
"Room 366? Nasty." Nagi stared blankly at the older boy. "The three hundreds are in a separate block. I'll take you there, if you want." Nagi nodded blankly, not understanding why the youngest Weiss assassin was going to help him. Or was he? Perhaps he's going to take me somewhere completely different! Perhaps he's going to take me somewhere secluded and kill me! Nagi started to tremble, as did the lockers on either side of the corridor. Omi turned to stare at him. "Are you doing this?" Nagi shrugged, trying to calm down a little. "Why?"  
  
"I, I guess I'm nervous. It happens sometimes. It's not easy being psychic! Having to keep such a tight grip on emotions and powers and everything else!" Nagi was aware that if someone didn't sew his mouth shut soon he was going to blurt out anything and everything to Omi.  
  
"You also babble, "Omi noted with an amused gleam in his eye. "Look, since you're late already we can delay a little longer. I think we ought to talk before we go any further." Nagi nodded. "We're surrounded by innocents here. Whatever happens between us as Bombay and Prodigy, let's not bring it here, okay?"  
  
"Definitely! School and work have to be kept separate. Bombay and Prodigy can fight, but Omi and Nagi will be model students, right?"  
  
"Nagi? That's a nice name. How did you know mine?" Omi asked curiously.  
  
"Duh! We have a telepath working with us. We know more about Weiss than Weiss does!" Omi laughed.  
  
"I don't doubt that. People can react so strangely sometimes, I guess. I mean, you can think you now someone inside and out, and then they do something so completely out of character." Omi trailed off, aware he too was probably saying more than he ought.  
  
"Okay, another pact. Anything we learn about each other or each other's 'groups', we keep between us. I mean, Schuldig might pick up a bit from me, I can't help that, but I can keep most stuff from him."  
  
"Okay. Stuff like Mastermind's real name is Schuldig?" Omi added suddenly, teasing. Nagi flushed and refused to look at him. "Okay, I think I've held you up long enough now. Let's get you to 366 so I can return to the library."  
  
"You were leaving it when I arrived," Nagi pointed out.  
  
"True. I was going to put my homework into my locker and get out the English text I'm supposed to read."  
  
"What are you doing?" Nagi's grip on his bag was slowly loosening as he relaxed in Omi's company.  
  
"Oh, Crime and Punishment. Dullest book I've ever read." Omi laughed.  
  
"So why are you reading it in your free period?"  
  
"I'm not, we're just not allowed to use the library for leisure reading." Nagi looked blank. Omi grinned and gestured for him to stop, and opening his locker Omi reached in a produced a volume of Nagi's favourite manga.  
  
"I love that series! Can I borrow it when you're done? I haven't had much chance recently to buy the recent stuff."  
  
"Sure, why not?" Omi wondered why he was saying this to a mortal enemy, but decided that just as Bombay and Omi were somewhat separate entities, at least in other people's eyes, chances were that Prodigy and Nagi were in a similar situation. After all, they both had similar strains put on them, living the most complex double lives of either group.  
  
Eventually Nagi and Omi reached the block containing the three hundreds, and Omi insisted on escorting him to the door of the room 366. Opening it for Nagi, and giving the nervous boy a slight push to propel him into the room, Omi gave the teacher a friendly grin.  
  
"This is your new boy, I think. He was lost in the main building."  
  
"Thank you, Omi. I trust your computer project is going well?"  
  
"I've already finished, thank you."  
  
Nagi stood silently through the short exchange, fighting the urge to blush. Twenty odd pairs of eyes were gazing at him. He felt like an animal at the zoo. His knuckles whitened again as tension made him increase his grip on his bag. Eventually Omi left, giving Nagi a warm, reassuring smile as he did so, and Nagi was left alone and friendless in a room full of hostile strangers.  
  
"So, you must be Naoe Nagi, yes?" Nagi nodded, unable to speak. "Go and sit by Fujimiya Aya, please." Nagi almost collapsed from shock. "Aya-chan, as you were previously our most recent addition, I'd like you to be Nagi's guide for the day. Take him to get his timetable and show him were all the appropriate rooms are, please."  
  
"Yes, sensei," Aya said. Nagi walked in a dazed shock to his seat next to the pretty girl, wondering if this day could get any worse. When he spotted a very similar looking girl glowering at him from the table to their left, he knew it just had.  
  
*A/N: this is probably the chapter where my lack of knowledge of Japanese and Japan is at it's most blatantly obvious. I have an idea of what I'm going to write, but then I panic to whether it's right or whether I've just called Nagi a girl and whether so-and-so would work as a Japanese name and I haven't just called someone 'Basil Brush' and I babble worse than Nagi, don't I? Well, my OOC Nagi, anyway. * 


	9. Chapter 9

Part Nine  
  
"So, what's your favourite television program?"  
  
"I don't really watch a lot of TV," Nagi said dully.  
  
"Oh." She was making an effort, she really was, and Nagi just wanted to tell her how much it meant to him. But he couldn't. Especially not with Sakura glaring daggers at him the whole time, just waiting to get him alone.  
  
"I watch the Slippery Slidey Game sometimes. I think it's funny, " Nagi made an effort, and was rewarded with a beaming smile. A/N: This is a real tv show in Japan. It consists of a foam course coated in some kind of oil, which contestants have to get around without falling off. As far as I know, no one's managed!   
  
"I know, isn't it?!" Aya gushed. "It's sooo funny when there's someone all dignified and they ruin their suit, or when you get some really fat guy who looks about as table as the course!" Nagi chuckled slightly. He let Aya talk, let the soothingly friendly babble wash over him, and tried to ignore the looks Sakura was giving him. Suddenly, Aya's nattering broke off. "Hey, Omi, over here!" Both girls waved energetically as the older boy loped over. The look of horror on Omi's face was barely disguised when he recognised the small boy with them.  
  
"Nagi." Omi stared at Nagi, and Nagi at Omi. Nagi couldn't hold Omi's gaze and stared miserably at his shoes. They were scuffed, he noticed. "Nagi, can I talk to you for a moment?" Omi took his arm.  
  
"You two know each other, that is so great!" Aya gushed behind them as Omi led Nagi around a corner and into a cupboard.  
  
"What happened to our agreement?" Omi hissed furiously. "I should have known you weren't to be trusted, Schwarz."  
  
"It's not my fault," Nagi protested vehemently. "I had to sit next to her and she was told to show me around and she doesn't now anything, does she, but Sakura is glaring daggers at me and I want to keep our agreement." He broke off to breath.  
  
"Oh yes, and kidnapping her was a harmless prank that brought merriment to all, I suppose?" Nagi flinched away from Omi's stare. Despite having stood up to Crawford's scowl, Nagi felt intimidated by his peer.  
  
"We were forced to do that. Why would we want to hurt her now? One, the people who wanted her kidnapped in the first place are dead, and two, now she's out of the coma what ever it was they were going to try wouldn't work any way!" Nagi held in the trembling and looked back at Omi. If he showed weakness now, next hey the met in confrontation he had no doubt that the older boy would show no mercy. Omi may have felt sorry for him and taken pity on little lost Nagi earlier, but Bombay saw him only as an enemy and any weakness was to be taken ruthless advantage of.  
  
"They're dead? I thought they were your bosses. What are you doing now?" Omi gripped Nagi's shoulders.  
  
"Not much, really," Nagi admitted. "Look, I don't want any trouble. I don't want to cause you any trouble. Aya-chan has been nothing but sweetness and light to me since I arrived. I don't want to hurt her."  
  
"So leave her alone," Omi ground his teeth.  
  
"And that wouldn't hurt her? She's gone out of her way to be nice to me. I'd be hurt if someone brushed an offer of friendship away just like that."  
  
"We can't afford friends, remember? We kill people." Omi wondered is Schwarz held the same ideals as he did for Weiss. Well, he wanted the others to be happy, but if it interfered or proved a threat to Weiss they would have to make the decision. Ken had made the decision, and had decided to stay.  
  
"So why were Sakura and Aya-chan so happy to see you?" Nagi spat. Omi froze. Do I have double standards? He asked himself suddenly. I don't know what Aya-chan and Sakura are if not my friends. But Sakura already knows what's going on. She was a part of it. And so was Aya-chan, though she doesn't know it. So no matter what, I can't avoid them.  
  
"That's different," Omi said automatically, then regretted it. How was it different? But Nagi didn't argue. Omi guessed the younger boy had been thinking much along the same lines as himself. Omi lent forwards threateningly, his body pressing against Nagi's and forcing the younger boy to lean on the wall for support. "Look, let's just drop it for now, okay? Make a point of phasing yourself out of Aya-chan's life. By next week." Omi spun around, leaving Nagi alone in the cupboard.  
  
Nagi remained leaning against the wall. He was confused. So, he had to leave Aya-chan alone. Made sense. But he had the suspicion Aya-chan wasn't going to leave him alone, no matter what Sakura was telling her about Nagi 'coming from the wrong sort of crowd'. Nagi didn't particularly want to leave Aya-chan either, but for different reasons, he surmised. At least, the throbbing in his groin from where Omi had been so close to him told him so.  
  
"This has been one of the, no, sorry, the best first day I've had," Nagi said suddenly, looking up over his sandwich at the others.  
  
"You've had a lot of them?" Sakura asked, apparently willing to trust him now Omi was putting up with his presence. Well, not 'putting up' exactly, just not leaving Nagi alone.  
  
"Yes," Nagi sighed.  
  
"How is this the best, considering everything that's happened?" Omi asked guardedly. The girls guessed the two had 'exchanged words' in the cupboard, but Nagi was doing a good job of hiding the bruises Omi's rough hands had left on his neck.  
  
Nagi twisted around in his seat and discreetly lifted one side of his shirt. "I got this scar when I guy knifed me on my first day at my last school. Two schools before that, a guy gave me internal bleeding on my first day and managed to get me expelled before I'd even attended my first lesson." Nagi dropped his shirt once the girls (and Omi) had gawped their fill. "Of course, those are the two worst case scenarios, but this is still by far the best. No one's ever been nice to me on my first day before. Usually I'm just left to wander around and get lost on my own, or if I'm assigned a 'guide' they do it so grudgingly I feel guilty for merely existing."  
  
Aya-chan gave a sympathetic gasp. "I don't know why you should feel like that. I mean, why would any one be mean to someone on their first day?"  
  
"I get sent to schools full of jerks. Excepting present company, of course." Nagi was so matter of fact that Aya and Sakura giggled. Omi looked solemn, and very much out of character.  
  
"You never thought of fighting back?" Omi asked with gravity.  
  
"Look at me!" Nagi snapped. "My opponent would have to be somewhere around the stature of a mouse for me to stand a chance. I'm the same height as Sakura!"  
  
"Is that why you changed schools so much, because you got picked on?" Sakura asked, knowing perfectly well it wasn't, but wanting to see what Nagi said anyway.  
  
"No. I live with my cousin, and we move a lot."  
  
"Just you and your cousin?" Omi asked, picking up on Sakura's lead. What sort of background story would Nagi build for himself.  
  
"No. See, everyone say aww because I have a nice pathetic story lined up," Nagi flashed a tight grin, which looked about as real as 'genuine fake leather'. "Okay, my parents died when I was quite young. A German charity took responsibility for me, and found my cousin Crawford. He's twelve years older than I am, and was already in charge of some other orphans-"  
  
"That's lucky, that he was already part of the organisation," Omi said. Nagi decided to ignore him and his catty remark.  
  
"These were a German, who calls himself Schuldig and is about six years older than me, and an Irish man, Farferello, who's about four years my elder. He decided it would be best for me to move to Japan, so I wouldn't feel too isolated. Nice plan, doesn't really work, but who's blaming him. As family, I was put first, I guess. Neither of the others minded. So, I live with my cousin and two completely unrelated strangers, one of which is mentally deranged."  
  
"Let me guess, the German?" Aya said.  
  
"Nope. Farferello. And Schuldig gets really ratty if you say anything that might be even faintly construed as racist. I think he got some stick as a kid for being German. Anyone who mentions the war, either war, in fact, gets his or her head bitten off." Nagi froze suddenly. Damn. He'd just told Omi the name of every single Schwarz member, plus the fact that SS had been based in Germany. Damn.  
  
"Farferello isn't a very Irish name," Sakura prompted.  
  
"No," Nagi answered dazedly, not really thinking about what he was saying, "I think his real name is Jei, which isn't particularly Gaelic either. We have to have a straightjacket for him, that's how bad he can get when he's not lucid. I can't have people over." Nagi stood up, knocking the bench he had been sitting on over without even noticing, and walked away. He returned, picked up his tray, and walked away again, not saying a word to three still sitting at the table.  
  
"That was rude," Aya-chan pouted. "I wonder why he just went off like that?"  
  
"Perhaps something he said reminded him of something he had to do?" Sakura suggested, just as mystified.  
  
"Or an unpleasant memory he didn't want to have to share," Omi said. The girls turned to look at him. When Omi was around the new boy, he acted differently. Sakura recognised this other Omi vaguely, but kept the bad memories to the back of her mind. Aya-chan just grew more suspicious. She was almost certain whatever had happened while she was in her coma, Omi, Sakura, and now Nagi had been involved. And her brother. She just wanted to see her brother again. 


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: I am updating daily, and will probably continue to do so. Yes, I haven't written most of this already (did another 5 parts today, hence double update!) but if waiting for a new part each day is too much suspense, imagine waiting anything up to a month for a new part. I write in spurts, so stockpiling the fics is a good idea, honest. Also, it gives me a chance to edit out the hundreds of typos Word never pics up on. My spelling is dodgy enough as it is without Word replacing 'her' with 'he' and 'the' with 'that'. I can't stand waiting ages for someone to update either, so I rarely read unfinished serials. And for those who think it's confusing so far, you ought to see what I wrote today. Even I'm not sure where I'm going next, and I know how it all ends! Thanks to all the wonderful reviewing people once more!   
  
  
  
  
  
Part Ten  
  
Schuldig lay on the bed, an idle cigarette dangling from his lips. He stared at the ceiling, feet propped on one of the pillows. Later, Brad would come and shout at him for smoking in the flat, especially on their new white bed, but Schuldig couldn't bring himself to care.  
  
Nagi had come home earlier, clearly upset. He'd been locked in his room for the better part of two hours now. Schuldig's grip on his powers was getting better, and Nagi's shields were in a state of disarray anyway. Of course, the adolescent mind was chaos in it's purist form, but Schuldig had managed to glean the information that the chibi was attending the same school as Bombay and Abyssinian's baby sister.  
  
Schuldig was worried. Tash, who had chosen their apartment, more than likely had chosen Nagi's school. And she would have known that it was the same school the youngest Weiss assassin attended. Schuldig wondered if all her meddling was benevolent. Then the image of the shy brunette filled his mind's eye, and he found it hard to believe she could be anything but. Perhaps she was just looking for a way to end this feud between the two groups, and this was the first step.  
  
His thoughts turned to the new head of SS, or whatever they were going to recall it. Tanya. Russian. That was all he'd managed to get from Brad. She was clearly something Brad didn't want to talk about. Schuldig grinned. Buttercup.  
  
But what were her intentions? That Schuldig couldn't figure out. Why rebuild SS? To take over the world? To earn billions? To take revenge on. someone? To feel superior to a large number of people?  
  
Okay, what did he know so far? One, Tanya was a female version of Brad, an anal-retentative control freak. Two, she was so powerful in her particular field that she could tell your life story just by breathing in a molecule you had breathed out. Three, three, three he had no idea what her motives would be because she didn't seem the type to take revenge or get obsessed with money or power or anything. She just was.  
  
Perhaps she just couldn't stand the chaos and anarchy that had reigned in the aftermath of the death of the SS leaders. Probably that, Schuldig decided.  
  
Brad leant in the doorway, watching his lover smoke. Bran had been a nice little reality check for Schuldig when it came to that habit, but it would take more than one cancer sufferer to put off the addict. And Brad found it hard not to find it attractive. Sexy, even. The smoke was hypnotic as it curled grey-blue towards the ornate ceiling.  
  
He wondered if this was how Schuldig felt, an unnoticed watcher on people's private lives. He couldn't know what Schuldig was thinking about, but he knew him well enough to take a guess. Brad had known he'd have to face up to this subject sooner or later, but his past wasn't something he wanted to face.  
  
"You going to stand there and mope, or come in and yell at me for dropping ash all over the nice white sheets?" Schuldig drawled.  
  
"You're not, are you?" Brad felt a moment of panic, and then felt a little disgusted at himself. If he wasn't careful, he'd end up a figure of amusement, like Monica in Friends.  
  
"Nah. But it gave you a fright." Schuldig rolled onto his stomach to stare at Brad, flicking his cigarette into an ashtray on the floor. Judging by the number of butts in it, Brad realised that Schuldig had been thinking a long time. Either that or he'd had some really great sex with someone Brad didn't know about. Schuldig smirked, picking up on that thought. "You wish!"  
  
Brad sat down on the bed next to Schuldig, causing it to sink and the younger man to roll against his side. Pulling his face out of Brad's hip, Schuldig struggled to sit up. Eventually both he and Brad were sitting with their feet on the floor.  
  
"I want to talk to you," Schuldig said with unusual gravity. "About Tanya."  
  
"I knew it." Brad sighed.  
  
"Okay, quit it! You had a crush on her while you two were at that Auschwitz (sp?) and she rejected you repeatedly. So? You had feelings for someone beside me. Why are you so convinced that's going to make me up and leave you?"  
  
"Because apart from, you she's the only person I've ever had feelings for. And I don't think they're quite gone."  
  
"Oh." They sat in silence. "That wasn't what I wanted to ask, but I guess it ties in," Schuldig said eventually.  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"I want to know more about Tanya. There's something about her, something about all of this."  
  
"I know what you mean. And I don't know what I can tell you you don't already know." Brad risked a glance at his lover, who was leaning with his elbows on his legs, staring at the carpet.  
  
"Tell me your history with her."  
  
"Okay. Um, you remember how the Training Facility was divided? Passive Mental, Active Mental and Physical Abilities?"  
  
"Of course. One of each in a team, plus one non-psychic."  
  
"Yes. Yes. So, clairvoyance and pre-cognition, along with post-cognition, are passive. She arrived the year before I did. She was assigned as my 'guide'. I worshiped the ground she walked on, introducing me to something I had known all my life to be part of me but never understanding what it was. She left the year before I did, naturally. I nagged her for her number and eventually she gave it to me. Then you arrived from the Sahara and I never actually got around to calling her."  
  
"Brad?"  
  
"Yes?" Brad shifted nervously.  
  
"That's all well and good, but absolutely verdammt useless. We have no idea why she's rebuilding SS, and if we have to stop her, you've given no clues as to how that could be done." Brad stared incredulously as Schuldig. He really didn't care that Brad had feelings for this woman? Perhaps he wasn't as serious about this relationship as Brad had thought he was.  
  
"I told you I couldn't tell you anything you didn't know already," Brad reminded his partner. "Well I assumed that. I'd have thought stopping her would be obvious." Brad left a little of his annoyance seep into his already peevish tone. Schuldig thought it sounded like Brad was whining, but his own offence at Brad's superior tone crushed the amused grin that might have bled the tension from the scene.  
  
"Oh, well why don't you tell me, since I'm clearly not smart enough to work it out for myself." Schuldig glowered through a curtain of orange hair at the older man.  
  
"Don't be like that," Brad snapped. "All you have to do is uncover her skin. Anything she touches, anything, sends her a huge bout of knowledge. It's like when your shields went down, you went nuts. When someone pulled off one of her gloves for a joke at the facility, she ended up in the infirmary for six months trying to gain control of things."  
  
They sat in silence, each brooding over their own thoughts and revelations. Brad was upset that it meant nothing to Schuldig that he had feelings for someone else. How could it be a serious relationship is Schuldig didn't even seem to care if Brad was faithful or not? I misjudged him, Brad told himself dismally. No, I didn't. I knew exactly what he was like. A slut. A tactless, immoral, unfaithful, adulterous slut. Why should it mean anything to him that I might have feelings for someone else? He sees that as normal. It's how he would act. One of us is going to be sleeping on the sofa tonight, damn Tash!  
  
Schuldig stared at the carpet between his feet. He thinks I'm an idiot. He thinks I'm inferior to him. Bastard. And how can he think I don't care? How can he think that just because I understand that he can have feelings for someone other than me I don't give a damn about him? He's possessive. He judges everyone by himself. He'd over react if I ever admitted I'd had feelings at any point in my long and chequered past for someone who wasn't him. He's selfish and jealous. Yes, that's it! Whoa, there's no way I'm sleeping on the sofa.  
  
The silence lengthened. Neither was willing to break it, neither was willing to leave. They sat in silence, unmoving but not uncaring.  
  
"Hey, you guys still up?" Nagi knocked on the door before entering. He stared in confusion at the two of them, Schuldig with his elbows resting on his knees and head bent, Crawford sitting poker straight with his hands folded neatly in his lap.  
  
"Apparently so," Schuldig remarked dryly, not looking up.  
  
"Uh, Farferello and I were going to watch a video. Want to join us?" Nagi's nerves were obvious to both of them, and both blamed the boy's state of nervousness on the other. Both were, in fact, wrong. Nagi was nervous because Farferello wanted to watch 'Psycho' again, and there was no way the teenager was going to watch it with him alone.  
  
"Sure," Schuldig said, getting up slowly. His spine cracked, and his winced.  
  
"How long have you been sitting like that?" Nagi asked incredulously.  
  
Schuldig glanced at the clock. "About two hours," he admitted. "Coming, Crawford?"  
  
Brad winced. Schuldig had to be really angry to resort to his surname. "No. I think I'll go to bed. Don't let Nagi stay up too late." Schuldig turned away, hurt at the brush off. But he was still determined not to be the one left sleeping on the couch at the end of the evening. 


	11. Chapter 11

Part Eleven  
  
A/N: Okay, when it comes to developing a story I tend to lean more on Character development than plots, as you may or may not have noticed. But bear with me, things are finally going to start happening. Trust, me I do know what I'm doing. I think. ^_^ First of all, though, I've got to wrench back this story from Brad and Schu's overactive libidos.   
  
"Brad?" Schuldig climbed into the soft bed.  
  
"Yes?" the American replied sleepily. He was glad Schuldig had decided to join him. The bed was decidedly lonely without him.  
  
"If she asked you, would you?" Schuldig didn't need to explain.  
  
"I." Brad thought for a moment, knowing if he waited too long Schuldig would take it to mean 'yes', " I don't know," he finally admitted.  
  
Schuldig didn't bother put an arm around his lover, leaving a sizable gap between them.  
  
* * *  
  
Crawford stared at the letter in his hand. There was nothing on the envelope. No address, no stamps, no postmark. It had been slipped under the door, it seemed.  
  
He was alone in the flat. Well, Farferello was present, but he was still chained up and in his straightjacket after the film last night, and his mind was orbiting Pluto.  
  
Crawford walked into the kitchen/dining room and pulled a chair out from under the long table. The white paper smelled slightly of photocopier ink and printer chemicals. He didn't want to open it alone. It felt wrong. SS had never sent them their assignments in plain envelopes. It seemed so detached.  
  
Eventually, Crawford pulled a letter opener from his breast pocket and opened it. It seemed better to do it here, in the 'public' part of the flat, rather than his personal and very private study. This was something the whole team should have been involved, but he 'knew' it couldn't be put off until the others got back.  
  
A photo fell out. He reached in and pulled out a variety of other documents, including blue prints and another envelope. He opened this as well.  
  
As you are no doubt aware, SS kept many secrets from its employees. This laboratory has been identified as containing files and formulae that may reveal a few of those secrets. The male in the photograph is to be obtained alive, but all others are expendable. The data you retrieve may be vital to the survival of us all. Tanya.  
  
Crawford stared. It was. to the point. He found himself wondering who had pushed the envelope under their door. It was clearly not something your average postman could be trusted with.  
  
Espionage always annoyed Crawford. Letterbox drops to receive information and stalking someone just seemed so, so cliché. And carried a greater risk factor. Someone sneaking around in a black leotard at night, obviously trying not to be seen picking locks or climbing through windows would arouse much more suspicion than someone in normal day clothes walking straight up to a building and forcing their way in through the front door would leave watchers convinced they had a right to be there.  
  
Crawford rocked back in his chair, staring at the ceiling fan turning lazily above him. She was taking down SS agents. He began to understand why Schuldig was so concerned. Were these people being killed because they were loyal to SS, or because they weren't? Either way, Schwarz had every right to be on the hit list.  
  
He collected the documents from the dining table and walked into his small study. He spread them across his desk and studied each one slowly. One was a list of the files Nagi would have to get from the computer. One was a list of personnel who should be present in the laboratory. Only the man in the photograph was psychic, it seemed, but all were 'willing' employees of SS.  
  
What was his power? Hmm, healing. A branch of telekinesis. Crawford harboured some suspicion that with proper training healing would be something Nagi might master, had, in fact, mastered briefly, but he didn't want to place any more pressure on their youngest team member. Anyway, a healer shouldn't be too hard to deal with.  
  
Crawford was studying the blueprints for suitable entrances and exits for Schwarz when Schuldig returned. Even Schuldig knocked before entering Crawford's office.  
  
Crawford waited almost a minute before calling out "Enter," denying the spitefulness of it even to himself.  
  
Schuldig stepped into the meticulously tidy room. He spotted the documents on Crawford's desk, and couldn't resist craning his neck to get a better look at them.  
  
"Mission?"  
  
"Yes. Retrieval."  
  
"Find and destroy?"  
  
"Also."  
  
Schuldig picked up the list of employees and began browsing through the names. His finger ran down the list and stopped about halfway down, tapping the paper thoughtfully.  
  
"Crawford?" Ah, so Schuldig was still angry that Brad had answered truthfully last night,  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Only the guy in the picture is supposed to be a psi, right?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"So how come this guy is a pyrokinetic and this woman is post-cog?"  
  
"I," Brad stopped. What had happened? "I assume they must have overlooked that fact. Remember, Tanya wants us to do this because she doesn't have all of SS's files."  
  
"Bullshit." Schuldig tossed the paper in front of Brad. "They kept full employee records in Germany. You're telling me she 'overlooked' the fact that she only named one of the psi employees at this facility? I attended with both of them!"  
  
"Perhaps her letter is badly worded. She only wants the one kept alive. It is a reasonable assumption that she didn't intend to imply that he was the only psychic."  
  
"Perhaps you didn't hear me? I said bullshit. There's always three psis in a team. Passive, Active and physical. She only named the physical. She had no intention of warning us that a bloody fire started was there!" Schuldig was yelling now, slamming his fist on Crawford's desk and shaking the American. "She wants us dead! She wants me dead!"  
  
"Now you're being ridiculous. And don't suppose the fact that Schwarz could become a potential target hasn't crossed my mind."  
  
Schuldig stared at him, anger flaring in the jade eyes. Why was Brad being so bloody minded? Why was he suddenly treating Schuldig like a child?  
  
Schuldig slowly released the lapel of Crawford's jacket. He took his hand from the desk and made a show of uncrumpling and reorganising the papers. He stood back, folding his hands in the small of his back and looking like a soldier on parade.  
  
"You better show these to the others," Schuldig said slowly. "There are probably others I haven't recognised. We've never gone against another team like this. The best we've fought is Weiss, and, let's face it, I could take them out on my own."  
  
"Yes."  
  
Schuldig regarded Crawford silently for a moment. "We're going to die," he said.  
  
"I don't know."  
  
Schuldig left the room, and Brad rested his head on the desk with a thunk. No matter how hard he looked, he didn't know. Crawford didn't like fear.  
  
Strains of 'Bohemian Rhapsody' drifted from the main room to wake Brad a few hours later. Music was a good way of judging Schuldig's mood, but this was the first time Brad had heard 'Bohemian Rhapsody'. He didn't like what it said about Schuldig's current state of mind.  
  
He was thirsty. The sluggish thought brought him further towards consciousness. He lifted his head from the desk, one of the blueprints pinned to his glasses. A luke-warm cup of tea was next to where his head had been. Despite the tepid temperature Brad gulped it down. He didn't really feel like leaving the study yet.  
  
Leaving the dregs in the bottom of the cup, Brad turned back to his studies of the plans. Presuming what Schuldig said was true, and the telepath rarely lied, then this was going to be difficult. Fortunately it was a post- cog rather than a pre-cog like himself.  
  
Post cognition was an odd branch of the 'passive' mental psychic abilities. Occasionally flashes of the past would reveal themselves to the person. Brad supposed it was like having flashbacks of someone else's life. It was most useful in a research position, so it didn't surprise him that one was working in a lab.  
  
It was the pyrokinetic that worried him. After his brief meeting with Bran A/N probably should have mentioned this earlier, but Bran is actually a Welsh name, not Irish, and isn't pronounced like the breakfast cereal. Don't have the faintest idea how it is pronounced, I'm afraid, Brad was well aware how temperamental and dangerous pyrokinetics could be. It seemed almost too clichéd. He wondered vaguely if this pyrokinetic would have red hair?  
  
As mush as he hated to admit it, Brad was aware how right Schuldig had been. No matter what arguments he supplied, Tanya hadn't warned them. If she hadn't known, she should have, and certainly shouldn't have tried to send them in with incomplete data.  
  
He stared up at the corkboard, mounted on the wall above the desk. There wasn't much pinned to it at the moment, but he knew it would fill up; so far Nagi's academic calendar and Farferello's various doctors telephone numbers took up most of the space. But in one corner, almost shamefully hidden, was a small scrap of paper with a phone number on it.  
  
It would cost a lot. It would be the middle of the night there. It would seriously piss her off. All good reasons to do it.  
  
Brad yanked the paper from the wall, catching his thumb on the pin and causing a small drop of blood to well up. Sucking the offending digit, he used his left hand to dial the number.  
  
"Tanya?" he said as soon as she picked up, not even giving her a chance to growl hello.  
  
"Buttercup, what a pleasant surprise," the caustic tone brought back memories of spurned advances and rejected offerings.  
  
"Pyrokinetic. Post-cognitive." Brad actually found himself taking pleasure in winding her up.  
  
"What are you on about, you little." she trailed off in a selection of Russian expletives.  
  
"You warned us there would be a Healer. You said nothing about a post-cog and pyro. Fortunately, Schuldig attended the facility with both of them."  
  
"Ah shit. Tash deals with that stuff. Leave me alone." Brad was shocked by Tanya's tone. He knew it was an unearthly time in Germany, and he knew she knew she was paying for this call, but the lazy brush off seemed out of character.  
  
"No. If you want us dead tell us. We won't be pawns."  
  
"What? No. You're not pawns, Buttercup. I didn't know, As I said, Tash and some others put together the mission brochures. She's got the most computer knowledge of anyone here."  
  
"So why didn't she tell us?" Brad had no intention of letting this go. "We could be killed, Tanya. Dead."  
  
"I know! Shut up! Look, Tash is barely twenty. How should she know the who's who of psis? She can't hurt people, she's a telempath. Look, it probably just got overlooked. No one did much research into the other employees. SS usually just stuck anyone qualified on the job."  
  
"And the fact there is one psi there didn't tip you off? The fact that there's always teams of four, three psi and one not?"  
  
"Wait, 'is'? You mean you haven't done it yet?" Tanya's voice took on an overtone of steel. "It would do you well to understand that when I give an order I expect it to be obeyed."  
  
"We got the documentation this morning. I got the documentation. Farferello is out of it at the moment and Nagi's still at school. It's the middle of the day. We can't pull a job as soon as we get the word go. It needs planning and timing. You never worked the field, did you?" Brad was getting tired of this conversation.  
  
"No, I managed to avoid that kind of work." He flinched at her tone. How did she always manage to make him feel so utterly inferior, no matter what he did? No matter how hard he tried, no matter what he did, no matter what sort of person he tried to be, he simply wasn't good enough. He was beneath her. He heard 'another one bites the dust' filter through the closed door, and wished Tanya would bite the dust. Somehow, he knew, everything would be okay once she was dead. She was the root of everything that was wrong in his life at the moment. He knew those kinds of thoughts were utterly irrational, but they were making him feel better.  
  
"Buttercup?" The polished voice seeped in from Germany.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Oh, you are still there. Anyway, don't take offence at a simple clerical error. I'll deal with it personally next time we ask you to do something for us. Please, get it all finished off as soon as possible and have that man sent to us. Goodnight, Buttercup."  
  
"Good day, Tanya," Brad hung up the phone. Turning in his seat, he suddenly noticed Schuldig.  
  
"I brought you more tea," the young man said shortly, before sweeping out of the room. Brad flinched. 


	12. Chapter 12

Part Twelve  
  
The week was up. It was Sunday. It was now or never.  
  
*Everyone clear? * Brad channelled through Schuldig. A series of affirmatives reached him. *Good. Nagi, go. Farferello, in position. Schuldig? *  
  
"I'm standing right here," the German whined.  
  
"Fine! Schuldig?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
Brad ground his teeth. Schuldig had been growing more and more vexing as the week went by. He seemed to be dealing with his anger at Brad by making Brad as angry as possible. Karma, thought Brad sourly.  
  
Nagi slipped in through the basement window. He'd unlocked it using his powers. Clearly this group had never expected to be attacked by other members of SS. Taking advantage of his diminutive size, Nagi squeezed through a gap too narrow for a man even of Schuldig's stature.  
  
The computer was exactly where the blueprints had said it should be. Well, where the power points shown on the blueprints implied it made sense for it to be. Nagi settled himself in the chair and began to type furiously, discs still lightly gripped between his teeth.  
  
*Farferello, Go. * Brad's voice echoing in his head, the Berserker walked straight through the front doors. Fortunately they were glass, so he only received light cuts, rather than the bruising and broken bones he might have received where they wooden or metal. The secretary on the desk shrieked and fainted. *Later, * Schuldig warned the Irishman. *Remember who we can't touch? *  
  
*We can touch her, * Farferello argued, continuing through the corridors. *She isn't him. *  
  
*Oracle says no. * Farferello sighed. *Don't worry. You're the distraction, remember? So distract. * Farferello felt a smile slide up his face and a knife slide down his sleeve into the palm of his hand. Eeny, meeny, miny, mo.  
  
"Schuldig, go."  
  
Schuldig didn't even spare the thought to answer his boss. Closing his eyes, he began to search every mind in the building. He was still a little clumsy, though he was getting better. But for this, he was allowed to be clumsy. He was expected to be clumsy. People collapsed with headaches or stared around them in confusion as Schuldig passed over them like an angel of death.  
  
For one man, his was more literal. The pyrokinetic was in one of the laboratories, randomly lighting Bunsen burners. Suddenly, he clutched his head. There was someone in there! There was. someone. something.what? Something. what. someone? He dropped to his knees. Part of him, a deeply buried still aware part of him, knew exactly what was happening and raged at his own inability to stop it. He could even name who was doing it.  
  
"Schuldig!" The scream echoed through the building as everything that could burn did.  
  
Nagi leapt back from the computer as the screen exploded. One disc. Would they be angry he only had one disc? Too late now. He made for the window, trying to find something not already on fire to use to climb up to it. There was nothing. The chair, the cupboards, the filing cabinet, the desk, even the door was on fire.  
  
Farferello heard Schuldig's screech of *Get out! * and paused to decide whether to heed it. He was having so much fun. And the fire reminded him of Dante's Inferno. His hands twitched as he stared back at the trail of bodies. They were all on fire. No exit that way. He set off down the corridor, towards the centre of the building.  
  
Schuldig reeled back form the window. "Brad, the bastard." He choked.  
  
"I know." Crawford stared at the inferno. "Can you find the target?" Schuldig nodded weakly. "Can you bring him here?"  
  
"No. His shielding is too good."  
  
"Where is he?"  
  
"This floor, other side of the building. Brad, you're not, you won't." Crawford jumped through the broken window into the blazing building.  
  
Nagi fought panic. No way out. Trapped. No way out. Trapped. No way out. Trapped. *Yeah, I got it the first time, kid. * Nagi jumped. *How are you for air? *  
  
*The window's open, but it's so hot, * Nagi coughed pathetically.  
  
*Nothing to stand on? * Schuldig's concern was seeping into his manner of thought.  
  
*What's wrong? Schuldig, what else has happened? *  
  
*You're trapped, chibi, * Schuldig tried to bluff.  
  
*Schu, no kidding. Where are Brad and Farf? *  
  
*Farferello is looking for a way out. I think he's found a window, but it's a fair drop. *  
  
*He'll be fine, * Nagi thought shortly. *What about Brad? *  
  
*He went in. For the target. * Nagi's thoughts swirled around Schuldig, fear and sadness tinting everything. *Chibi, don't worry. He can take care of himself. *  
  
*Yeah, but who's going to take care of us? *  
  
Crawford clamped his handkerchief over his mouth as he fought through the rolling clouds of smoke. Schuldig was giving him directions, but Crawford got he impression he was trying to talk to the others at the same time, and correct guessing their predicaments were worse than his, Crawford made his own way as much as he could.  
  
"Hello? Help!" A hoarse voice called from a locked room.  
  
"Hang on!" Crawford called. It didn't matter if this man was the target or not, he at least deserved a chance. Crawford stared at the flaming door. "Stand away from the door!" He kicked. Te crackling wood splintered in a hundred directions.  
  
It wasn't the target that came crawling out, but Crawford pointed him in the direction he had come. Crawford continued on. He took to using his gun to blow down locked doors with people behind, not caring that he was wasting bullets.  
  
He was nearing the stairwell in the centre of the building when he ran into Farferello. Crawford no longer had the faintest idea whether the root he had come in by was still safe, but he insisted Farferello take it, with strict orders not to kill anyone he met on the way. The mission criteria had changed.  
  
*They'll want as many alive as possible, since we can't get the data. Someone will know something, * Crawford reasoned, not realising the Schuldig was still maintaining the link.  
  
*You don't have to justify it, * Nagi's weak mental voice came back. It's frailty alarmed Crawford.  
  
*Kid's stuck in the basement, * Schuldig told him. *I'm at the window with Farferello, but he's too far down. You keep going, we'll fish him out somehow. *  
  
Crawford put thoughts of his teammates aside and concentrated on fulfilling the mission. He was about to step into another corridor when a voice from the bottom of the stairwell echoed up to him.  
  
"Hey, mister, help us!" The English sounded odd in the surroundings. "Don't leave us to die!"  
  
Against his will, Crawford ran down the stairwell. He realised the last flight was wooden. At the bottom sat a trembling group of people, which, to his relief, contained the target. He ran back up again. Rope.  
  
*It's all up in smoke, * Schuldig informed him. *Do yourself a favour, get out now. Don't die. * the last two words were barely whispered, and something tugged at Brad's heart. Maybe he couldn't be angry at Schuldig any longer. Maybe he wouldn't get a chance to if he didn't get out soon.  
  
Hope was failing him when, on entering a small room, saw, to his delight, a metal ladder leading to a loft area. It was screwed to the ceiling, but Brad pulled until the overheated plaster cracked away and the ladder was in his hands. Carrying it carefully back to the stairwell, he lowered it over the side.  
  
The panicked people had to lift one another onto each other's shoulders to get up, and Brad couldn't hold the ladder with more than one at a time. They ran down the corridor he told them to, and he prayed it was still clear.  
  
It took almost ten minutes and Crawford thought his arms would come out of their sockets. The only one left was the target.  
  
"Go! I can't get up there!"  
  
"No!" Crawford leant even further over the banister, until he felt his hips slipping on the hot metal and realised he was falling. He managed to catch one foot on the railing. "Climb!" He shouted, now the ladder was within easy reach of the target.  
  
"Don't be stupid! We'll both die!"  
  
"Climb," Crawford growled. His tone made it clear there was no option but to obey. The target caught the bottom rung in his hands and yelped. He began to shred his shirt, and wrap the rags around his hands, before starting to climb again. He reached the top of the ladder and continued to use Crawford's body for purchase. He climbed over the rail. And fled.  
  
Brad hung there. He tried to drop the ladder, to ease the weight, but he couldn't let go. He hadn't even noticed the heat, but it seemed his skin had fused itself to the metal. One foot hooked around a railing that was bending with the heat and head over a furnace. His hair began to crackle. His glasses cracked.  
  
Suddenly, a pair of strong arms grasped his waist. "Easy does it," someone muttered in German. The heat was making Brad feel dizzy.  
  
Slowly he was raised back to the floor. Comforting, cool hands prized his own from the ladder, leaving large amounts of raw red skin behind. The same hands helped carry him down the corridor. "There's an ambulance waiting. You're going to be all over the news for this. You saved a lot of people." Brad crumpled in Schuldig's arms, allowing the younger man to lift him bodily and run through the flaming corridors unhindered by trailing legs and tired feet. Ever the showman, Schuldig leapt through a burning window to roll on the grass, Brad still in his arms. Handing him over to the ambulance crews, the German collapsed on the grass.  
  
Nagi stared up at the face of Farferello. He couldn't believe it would be the last thing he saw before he died. He'd already tossed up the disc. The door shattered under the weight of the flames outside, and the intensity of the heat in the room hit him like a wave. Nagi staggered.  
  
"Can ye fly?" The Irishman asked suddenly, urgently.  
  
"I dreamt I could," Nagi replied, just loud enough to be heard over the roaring of the flames.  
  
"Dreams can come true," Farferello told him.  
  
"Look, I can't fly, okay! It's hard enough lifting anything, alive stuff is really hard, and things that know what're happening are almost impossible! I can't lift myself!" Nagi felt light headed.  
  
"Have ye ever tried? It's only a metre or so, then I can get ye."  
  
Nagi stared. What harm, could it do? If nothing else, the exhaustion such an attempt would result in would let him die faster.  
  
"Ye don't weigh much, shouldn't be as hard as all that. Ye've lifted me before," The Irishman coaxed.  
  
"Okay." Nagi gave in.  
  
he raised his hands above his head and stepped as close to the wall as he dared. The les he had to do the better. Okay, jump. Jump. Jump! JUMP! Hold it, hold it, little higher, little more, hold it, little more.  
  
"Got ye!" Farferello shouted exultantly. Nagi struggled to remain conscious and help Farferello pull him through the window. Once through, he had no compunctions about collapsing on the grass to become someone else's problem. 


	13. Chapter 13

Part Thirteen  
  
Nagi stared at the ceiling. It was white. And tiled. There was something he had to do, should have done already, but he couldn't remember what. Voices came from outside, and he struggled to hear them. Suddenly they were much closer.  
  
"Hey, evil chibi," he knew the voice, but the tone and inflection seemed almost alien.  
  
"Schuldig?"  
  
"The one and only," Okay, that was better. Arrogance. Much more recognisable than concern.  
  
"Where am I?"  
  
"In hospital. You've been out for three days. What did you do to yourself? Farfarello keeps insisting you can fly." Schuldig stared down at the tiny form in the huge bed. He looked paler than the white sheets and bandages that surrounded him. His skin had taken on an almost translucent quality.  
  
"I, I lifted myself." These words seem to take too much effort, and Nagi gasped for air.  
  
"Well I never. Don't do it again, 'kay? Farfarello wanted to come see you, but they won't let him in the hospital. Brad's still bedridden. He's got some nasty burns. Nasty." Schuldig swallowed, remembering the look on Brad's face when he came around. Still in a sea of painkillers and other drugs, he'd gazed up at Schuldig with a look of abject adoration that would never cross his face when he had full control. But, for now, he didn't, and Schuldig revelled in the tenderness his lover was showing in gratitude for his life.  
  
"We failed," Nagi said in a tiny voice. "'s all my fault."  
  
"Nah. We got the target. Well, the police picked him up yesterday, which amounts to the same thing. I think Tanya's pulled some strings, coz he's off to Germany. The files weren't that important."  
  
"Were."  
  
"Weren't. Shut up. Look!" Schuldig shoved a paper into Nagi's face. He tried to reach up and take it, but his arms wouldn't move. "Oh, yeah, you're all tangled up in gauze and stuff. I'll read it for you, and you can look at the pretty pictures."  
  
Schuldig settled himself like an infant school teacher, carefully displaying the paper so he could read and Nagi could take in the full horror of the pictures. There were several of the shell of the lab, more of the victims and survivors of the fire, and a very large one of Brad. Schuldig read the whole story aloud, and Nagi's mouth fell open.  
  
"Brad let you print that? Let you let them?"  
  
"Nope, he was still out when this one went to press. He's the hero of the day. Saved fifty people. The only deaths, it seems, were those caused by Farf, but the authorities don't know that. And look, you've got a page all to yourself! Selfless Nephew Also Attempts Rescue, Nearly Loses Life. No one can work out how you got out of the basement."  
  
"I'm not going to tell them."  
  
"Good lad." Schuldig reached over and stroked Nagi's hair tenderly. Nagi tried to raise his eyebrows, but he no longer had any to raise. His whole face stung. Schuldig's cool hand was soothing, and he closed his eyes. When he opened them again, Schuldig was gone, the paper neatly folded on the bedside table. There were sounds from outside.  
  
"Look, we'll be very quiet," a soft voice was promising. "We're from school, we're his friends. He'll want to see us!"  
  
"Ungh." Nagi had meant to say 'let them come in, she's right, I do want to see them' but 'ungh' was all that came out. At least it let them know he was awake.  
  
Aya-chan, Sakura and, to Nagi's infinite shock, Omi, entered the small room. They came bearing gifts. Nagi found himself fighting tears. He got gifts, just coz he was ill? He almost never got gifts! Omi had a bouquet, and was blushing behind it. Of course, the flower shop. Looked like Omi had arranged it himself.  
  
"Hey, hero," Aya-chan perched on the side of the bed. "Everyone's talking about you at school. In a good way, of course."  
  
"Yeah, you're going to be famous when you get back." Sakura pushed a gift into his face.  
  
"Can't move. Open it for me?" Nagi gave her a pitiful look. She giggled. "No seriously, I can't move. My hands are tied." Even Omi managed a small laugh at that. Sakura undid the string and held up her gift for Nagi to see.  
  
"It's from both of us," she said, gesturing to Aya-chan. "We made it together." It was a soft woollen jumper. Nagi felt tears threaten again. No one ever made stuff for him.  
  
"I wanna wear it now," he said huskily. The girls giggled again, and folded it up next to the newspaper. "Hey, shouldn't you all be in school?"  
  
"He's trying to get rid of us!" Aya said, mock indignantly. Nagi flinched. "Hey, I was kidding!" Aya immediately tried to reconcile with him.  
  
"He's right though, you two really ought to be getting back. I've got a free this afternoon, so I'll stay for a bit longer." Omi's tone left no question for argument, and the two girls reluctantly left.  
  
Omi drew up a chair and sat down heavily, taking the paper in one hand and shaking it open. "Nagi, will you be truthful with me?"  
  
"I know what you're going to ask," the younger boy said tiredly. "Yes, we were on a mission. No, we didn't start the fire. A pyrokinetic managed that, while Schuldig was trying to block him from using his powers. It was a retrieval exercise. Files and one man."  
  
"You weren't there to kill anyone?" Omi asked suspiciously.  
  
"Everyone apart from the target was 'expendable'. According to Schuldig all the deaths attributed to the fire were actually caused by Farf." Nagi sighed, tired beyond belief. His face was whiter than the pillow, his eyes surrounded by deep purple and burning with a feverish intensity. His skin was cracked and peeling in several places, and where the bandages didn't cover it the harsh red patches shone like blood on snow.  
  
"I see." Omi stared at the younger boy. He knew he wasn't going to relate any of this to Weiss. Why wasn't he going to? Because he'd promised Nagi? It didn't make sense. Part of Omi warned him against revealing anything about Nagi, even the fact he and Omi were now attending school together to the others. It might arouse suspicion later on, it might cause complications. Complicate what, though? Omi's mind wandered... "So, am I screwed?" Omi jumped. Surely Nagi couldn't share Schuldig's telepathy? Then it dawned on him what Nagi meant. Flushing scarlet, he reassured the younger boy that Weiss would remain as unaware of this as Omi could ensure. Fortunately, none of them read the papers very often. "I can't promise Birman or Manx won't take advantage of this," Omi warned. "With two Schwarz members out, they may determine it to be a perfect time for a strike on you." "Really? I guess we gave them too much credit." Nagi smirked, worryingly reminiscent of Schuldig. "Just because Brad and I are lying down doesn't make us any less dangerous." To demonstrate his point Nagi used his powers to summon a drink to him. He immediately regretted it. Even such a simple actions left him drained. Omi decided to ignore the sudden strained look on the younger boy's face, letting him think Omi really was convinced he didn't want to face Schwarz even now. "Nagi?" "Ye-s," Nagi's voice was breathy and unsteady. "Do you remember our talk at the beginning of last week?" Nagi nodded. This was what he had feared. This was what he had to have done by the end of the week. "I don't think you tried very hard," Omi's voice was ominous. "I... didn't want to," Nagi admitted. "Why can't I have any friends?" his voice took on a hint of a whine. "Why can't I just have one little part of my life being normal? It's not fair!" "You're right, it's not," Omi conceded. "But putting innocent lives at risk..." "Is no more than you're doing!" Nagi snapped. "They're your friends! You... you're just jealous!" Omi stared at him, amazed at this outburst. "What?" "Sorry," Nagi blushed. "I didn't mean that. I do understand your point, but the whole Aya-chan thing is over. If she was to be kidnapped again, it would be to harm Ran, and whether I'm friends with her or not isn't going to affect Brad's decision if he so decides."  
  
"No, but it would make it very easy to lure her into a trap. And Sakura too, remember."  
  
"Sakura trusts me about as far as she could throw me," Nagi said bitterly. "No, sorry, about as far as she could throw you."  
  
"True," Omi grinned. "Look, let's drop it for now. Just remember, if anything happens to either of them, your life will be forfeit. Whether it's Schwarz or not."  
  
Nagi didn't protest. Besides, what could happen to the girls with two trained assassins with them? "So, haven't you got classes?"  
  
"Is this a hint to make me leave?" Omi was surprised, and hurt, and surprised that he was hurt.  
  
"Unless you want to listen to me snore at you," Nagi gave a small smile. "I'm clinging on here."  
  
"Sorry! I guess I'll see you when you get back to school?"  
  
"I guess so."  
  
The goodbyes were awkward, more than they should have been, Nagi realised later. It seemed Omi wasn't keen to leave, and Nagi hadn't been that keen to see him go. But professionalism forbade Nagi to fall asleep in front of the older boy, professionalism and a small measure of pride. Maybe some other time, Omi would get to watch Nagi sleep... 


	14. Chapter 14

Part Fourteen  
  
Nagi was back in his own bed. Crawford was up and about, but his progress was hindered by Schuldig flapping about him like a mother hen every time he tried to do anything that might possibly cause him to breath a little harder. And Crawford didn't actually seem to mind.  
  
Crawford was out, and Schuldig, naturally, had followed. It was just Nagi and Farfarello in the apartment. Nagi was stretched out on his futon, playing with his laptop, while Farfarello watch some old film with a rape in it and pottered about getting Nagi drinks and snacks during the break. He'd got it into his head that Nagi was too thin, something Nagi privately agreed with but couldn't be bothered to do anything about, and insisted on Nagi eating at least twice the amount he should.  
  
There was a knock on Nagi's bedroom door. He frowned. It couldn't be Farfarello, his film was still on a Marlon Brando was shouting about not being a Polack. Schuldig and Crawford were still out, probably getting yelled at by their new boss. So who?  
  
"Come in?" Nagi called out eventually, realising the presence was still waiting for the summons. His jaw dropped. "Aya-chan? But, how, but."  
  
"I found the address on the school system. I thought I'd drop by. Ooo, you're wearing that jumper! Oh!"  
  
"Uh, yes. Very warm." Nagi blushed. He couldn't remember ever having a girl in his room before. And he wasn't even properly dressed, just the jumper, really, and his underwear. Aya-chan sat at the foot of the futon.  
  
"So, what have you been up to while the rest of us are slaving away at school?"  
  
"Slaving away here." Nagi pulled a comically tragic face. "They keep emailing me the homework so I don't get left behind."  
  
"Oh, poor Nagi! Being sick is all about not working. Poor, poor Nagi." Nagi blushed harder. "This is just a flying visit really, I'm afraid. Brought you chocolates!" Nagi gasped. He should definitely be sick more often. "It's lunch for the rest of us, so I've got to hurry back, coz it's almost over." Nagi nodded. "But, yes, chocolates and a get-well card, and lots of missing you." Nagi wondered how long she would keep this up. If he blushed any harder he'd catch fire. He was glad he wasn't pyrokinetic.  
  
Several more embarrassing comments later, Aya left, feeling a little confused. Nagi had been beetroot red for most of the one-sided conversation. Farfarello watched her as she made her way to the door.  
  
"Ye're Fujimiya Aya?"  
  
"What? Oh, yes. I am. Had Nagi been talking about me?" Aya flushed excitedly.  
  
Farfarello choose not to answer that. He was insane, but not stupid. Letting on they'd kidnapped her whilst in a coma probably wouldn't go down to well. And for some reason, he wanted things to go well with her. "Ye're Nagi's friend, so to speak?"  
  
"Yes." Aya felt slightly confused. What was the strangely accented man getting at?  
  
"He needs friends. Very lonely." Farfarello nodded as he talked, as if agreeing with himself. "Best not to come over while Crawford and Schuldig are here though, mightn't go down to well. Not keen on the visitors."  
  
"Really? Oh, you must be Farfarello," Aya swallowed, remembering what Nagi had said about the Irishman.  
  
"Nagi. Nagi mentioned me?" Farfarello's gaze became less unfocused and more intense. Nagi had talked about him to this girl. "What'd he say?"  
  
"Oh, um, he said you were Irish," Aya fumbled. "And um, you have a straitjacket." Damn, hadn't meant to say that.  
  
"That I do. Are ye scared o' me?" Farfarello stepped closer, and Aya found she'd hit the wall.  
  
"A little," Aya swallowed.  
  
"I'd say a lot, because ye've backed into a wall. Nagi say nothing else about me?"  
  
"He mentioned you once or twice, but he was only at school a week before the fire, so we didn't get much chance to talk about non-school stuff. He likes you," Aya added.  
  
"That's nice." Farfarello's eyes unfocused again and he stared at Nagi's door. "Nagi's nice," he said dreamily. "He needs people to be nice to him. Ye're going te be nice te him, ain't ye? Ye'll come and visit and, um, friend stuff, won't ye? Ye mustn't hurt him, it's very upsetting to all of us. I'm not some to upset."  
  
"Yes, Nagi mentioned that." Aya flinched as he turned to look at her again, but decided to plunge ahead. "He said ye, I'm you, were the reason he couldn't have people over."  
  
"Did he really?" Farfarello gave her an odd look. "That doesn't sound like our Nagi."  
  
Aya frowned, trying to remember. No, he hadn't said that, had he? "He. he implied it. He was talking about you, then said he wasn't aloud people over."  
  
"Aye, that sounds more like it. Want to watch te film wi' me?" Farfarello looked at her oddly, his one eye bright, and Aya thought she saw something there she didn't quite understand, and certainly didn't fit with the image of him she was rapidly building up.  
  
"Um, no, thank you, I have to get back to school."  
  
"Okay." Farfarello gave her an amiable nod. "See ye again?" he asked suddenly.  
  
"Um, maybe. I might have to bring some work over for Nagi while he's away."  
  
Farfarello nodded and let her pass him and leave the apartment. He sat and stared at the screen for a little while. Vivien Leigh was telling a doctor that she'd 'always depended on the kindness of strangers'. Farfarello didn't like the doctor in the film, didn't like doctors in general. He found it hard to concentrate on the remainder of the film, a girl with black hair skipping through his thoughts. She scared him.  
  
* * *  
  
Nagi stared up at the ceiling. Aya-chan had come to visit him. Aya-chan knew where he lived. Aya-chan said she got it off the school database. Aya- chan didn't even know how to turn a computer on. Aya-chan was friends with Omi, who was almost as good with computers as Nagi (he allowed himself that little vanity).  
  
Omi knew where Schwarz lived. Shit.  
  
* * *  
  
"It's a cat, Schuldig. Leave it."  
  
"I'm bloody trying! It's got its fucking claws in my leg!"  
  
"It's only an animal, Schuldig. I suppose like recognises like."  
  
Schuldig spat at Brad, for lack of a better come back. Admittedly, if he were to be compared to any animal, he'd like it to be a cat. A rat might be more appropriate, sly, clever, unafraid of getting dirty and a survivor at any cost, but he did have a soft spot for cats.  
  
This one was small and black and clinging to his trousers for dear life. It had been sitting underneath his car when he walked Brad out of the hospital, and had climbed in as soon as he opened the door. He couldn't blame it; it was pissing down with rain. Brad had had to go back for a check up, at Schuldig's insistence, when his burns had started to bleed after some 'strenuous exercise'. Brad hated cats, and not just because of the Weiss connections.  
  
Brad sneezed again. "Just throw the damned thing out of the window," he whined uncharacteristically. He'd been given more drugs, and felt a little out of it.  
  
"Do you want to get home in one piece, or do you want to kill the cat?" Schuldig snapped.  
  
Brad sank into his seat, glowering at his partner. Things had been great recently between them, and he didn't want to mess it up over one cat, but he felt it unreasonably selfish of Schuldig not to comply with his demands immediately. He sneezed miserably again.  
  
Schuldig swiped at the cat, briefly scaring it into the back seat. He glanced down at his trousers, and noticed a few spots of blood on the white material. As soon as they got back he was throwing that mangy mammal into the gutter. Her and Brad had it so good right now, and he wasn't going to ruin it over some pet. They'd had a bath together the other evening. A bath. Not a shower, not sex in the shower, but a bath. No candles, but there was alcohol and foam and Brad had smelt so divine and looked so divine and felt so divine afterwards as they lay in the billowing white sheets that Schuldig hadn't been able to stop smiling. Not smirking, not grinning, but smiling. It was too sappy for words!  
  
His thoughts were interrupted by a noise he didn't immediately recognise. It was purring. That damn feline was under his seat, nuzzling his ankles, and fucking purring. How was he supposed to be mad at an animal that purred at him? It was like being mad at Nagi for any length of time. Those damned watery blue eyes.  
  
"We're keeping it, aren't we?" Brad sighed, resigning himself to his fate.  
  
"Can we?"  
  
"I guess so. Can we shave the damned thing?" Schuldig laughed, and Brad joined him. It was comfortable. The sodden cat crawled out from under Schuldig's seat and settled itself in Brad's lap, still purring. Brad didn't even object, though he didn't glower at the poor creature. 


	15. Chapter 15

Part Fifteen  
  
* A/N: look, making up missions is hard, and finding plausible reasons is even harder, but it's time for a little more action. The plot requires it. Bloody plot (grumblegrumble.) *  
  
Brad ran his fingers lightly over the thing paper, wishing briefly that he shared Tanya's gift. The urge passed swiftly though, as he remembered her excessive clothing and delicate sanity. And this was who was in charge? How did he get himself and his team into these things?  
  
Well, this one promised to be a little safer. The target was a civilian, apparently not connected to SS. He'd passed round all the details before accepting, just to make sure. But the name wasn't even remotely familiar to any of Schwarz, and considering what it was it was reasonable to assume this girl wasn't an SS member.  
  
Honestly, with a surname like 'Hooker', what idiot would call their child 'Elizabeth Zoe'? The woman must be terrified of using her initials.  
  
Anyway, simple enough. Hacker. Tanya needed her. So, go fetch. Brad was getting somewhat annoyed at this. They were a premier assassin team, not a group of errand boys to be sent on find and retrieve missions. Besides, where could one find a better hacker than Nagi? If she wanted to look at SS files, why not get Nagi in?  
  
Wonderful, Tanya was withholding information from them. At least she was coming to Japan. Crawford would have words with her then. Perhaps it was just as well she didn't want Nagi, he wouldn't trust her with any member of his team. Schuldig was a case in point. He was still missing several memories, and not all related to his childhood. Chunks of Rosenkruez were missing, and some of their early missions, and a great deal on random facts about SS he'd picked up over the years. They'd been looking for something in Schuldig, and what worried Brad most of all was that they hadn't found it.  
  
He rubbed his forehead, feeling another migraine coming on. Schuldig was in the main room, petting the cat, Nagi was convalescing in his room (well, he was just milking it now to avoid going back to school, but Brad was feeling lenient) and Farfarello was trying to catch birds from the balcony. Brad hated to think what would happen if he actually managed it.  
  
He caught it before it happened, but he still jumped slightly as the moggy was deposited in his lap. Schuldig's arms wrapped snugly around his shoulders and chest, and Schuldig rested his head on Brad's shoulders.  
  
"Yeah, I've been worrying about that too," Schuldig told him, giving his lover a peck on the cheek. "Know something else? I can't get the precision I used to. People tend to know when I'm in their head. When she comes, I won't be able to have a little poke around without her knowing, and if her shields are anything like the garbled memories I have of them, we're fucked."  
  
Brad smiled at Schuldig's bluntness. "There are more ways to find out what she's thinking than getting into her head. It would help if we knew exactly what it is you've lost."  
  
"Brad, hon, the problem with forgetting stuff is that you don't remember what it is you've forgotten."  
  
"Hon?"  
  
Schuldig blushed slightly. "Sarcasm," he said.  
  
Brad frowned. It had sounded sincere, but with Schuldig you really could never tell. "What did I do to warrant sarcasm?" he asked, a little more harshly than he meant to.  
  
Schuldig winced. "Forget it," he said abruptly. "Besides, it isn't that I've forgotten stuff, I just can't remember it. It's still there."  
  
"The problem is we need another telepath to dig them out."  
  
"What about a telempath?"  
  
Brad sighed. "Tash is coming too, I think. She's on Tanya's leash, it seems. I can't imagine the hell she'll go through in a city like Tokyo. She won't help us, not with Tanya breathing down her neck, and we'll be lucky if she retains even a shred of sanity."  
  
"Tash projects," Schuldig said. He was sitting on the other desk now, feet propped up on a chair.  
  
"Projects?"  
  
"Yeah. If someone's feeling down, she makes him or her happy. That's how she cheered Nagi up."  
  
"Oh yes, I remember." Brad frowned. How had he forgotten that? He'd been worried Nagi would slip back into depression as soon as he was out of her influence. "So, you think she'll be cheering all of Tokyo up?"  
  
"May- Wait a min, will you? Farf's actually caught something. We'll be walking on feathers for weeks if I don't get it off him now." Schuldig half walked, half sprinted out of the door, accelerating through the main room until he burst onto the balcony. Out of interest, Brad pushed his chair over to the window to watch. He'd never admit it when anyone else was there, but he still got a bit of a thrill out of scooting along on a computer chair, spinning slightly. The cat sat up on his lap and stared hypnotically at the birds. Farfarello abandoned his catch almost immediately and stared through the window at the cat, his single pupil oddly feline in it's intensity.  
  
Brad was a little disturbed. It was one-way glass, but, dammit, when the cat blinked so did Farfarello.  
  
* * *  
  
Nagi ran over the blueprints on his computer. He felt a little hurt. He could get anything out of a computer, why were they looking for this random person? She wasn't even connected to SS, how would she know what she was looking for? Besides, what would they do when she found it, what if she read it? They couldn't.possibly.let her.  
  
Ohshit. They were going to kill her. She was expendable. It didn't bother Nagi so much that they were about to cause an innocent's death, they did that all the time, but it was the fact that whatever Tanya was looking for was going to be for her eyes only. If Schwarz heard anything, it would be a filtered down, censored, generally corrupted version. It wouldn't be the truth.  
  
Nagi swallowed. He checked the blueprints again. Once they'd got her, which would be no big deal really, they were to take her to a secure location. After some cross-referencing he worked out where this 'secure location' was. There were no computer terminals there.  
  
SS had never kept a hardcopy of anything. It was all on the Internet. The amount of hacking, decryption and decoding it would take to get in was immense. You had to know where to look, as well. You'd never find an SS site by chance, and you'd never find one from another. And they moved, deleting, copying, changing as they were used.  
  
Nagi began to check the woman's background. She was good, he had to admit it. The problem was, Tanya clearly had an idea of where the site she was looking for currently was. If he hacked in now, it would move. Once she'd gone in, it would move. But if he could get a Trojan into whatever computer they were going to use, he'd be able to track their process. The question was whether the hacker would pick up on it.  
  
He slipped into one of the SS sites and began searching for nearby bases in Tokyo. He found only viable one, a safe house they'd used once. It was an indistinguishable building, one of many sets of cloned flats, but it was the only one with a router that would allow Tanya to access the sites. It had to be a digital line.  
  
Nagi scanned his shelf for suitable programs. He'd written several Trojan's and viruses as part of SS, and he'd developed a lot of software to do it. SS had kept tabs on almost everything he'd developed. Almost.  
  
It was a small floppy disk, labelled 'Physics revision'. He had several such disks, and this was the only one that didn't only contain real revision notes. He opened the notes and began to type furiously. After several lines of complex code another window opened.  
  
He'd written the entire thing himself. Even the coding couldn't be found anywhere else. Fighting through layers of encryption so intense they'd been banned by some governments as a security risk. A/N: I can't remember what level of encryption it is, but the British government banned it after it was developed because they couldn't break it. It was considered a security risk, as terrorists would be able to pass information across the Internet without any form of surveillance. So there you go, freedom of speech has it's limits no matter where you are. Nagi hacked his way into his own program, eventually arriving at the password screen.  
  
This had been Schuldig's suggestion, actually. Anyone who typed in the box would wipe the disk. Nagi calmly closed it.  
  
The next bit was even harder. He had to keep up a typing rate of fifty keys a second. If he hadn't been telepathic he'd never had managed it. Fortunately, he'd already planned what he was going to do. Writing layer after layer of encryption and coding he began to create a passive Trojan that would activate as soon as they entered any SS site (they didn't have cookies, but the complex addresses and ridiculous coding tended to give them away) and store every page patiently. Next time the computer was turned on, it would send it all to Nagi's computer before self-destructing.  
  
Nagi sent the program and closed the program, going back through all the coding he'd had to get in through. This wasn't a disk that could just be removed. Eventually, Nagi took the disk from the drive and leant back. He spotted Farfarello's reflection on the screen and spun on the chair to face him.  
  
"I brought you a pussy cat," Farfarello told him holding the cat up. He was grasping its waist and it hung down like a dead thing, purring happily. "Are you tired?"  
  
Nagi nodded, accepting the uncomplaining feline from Farfarello. He felt like a Bond villain, sitting in front of a computer stroking a cat.  
  
"You need a new keyboard," Farfarello observed. Nagi glanced at it. He'd worn all the writing from the keys. Last time he'd written a virus on that program, the keyboard had actually caught fire. It wasn't a particularly cost effective way of getting in to someone's machine, but it was worth it on occasions like this.  
  
"I think Tanya's trying to screw us over," Nagi told him bluntly.  
  
Farfarello crouched on his heels and rocked back and forth, nodding. He was staring at the cat again. It made a playful swipe for his nose.  
  
"She was watching us. I switched off all the security cameras, hidden microphones, phone bugging, pressure pads and so on."  
  
"Let the birdies sing their songs, and the rabbits eat their kittens."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
Farfarello gave Nagi a look that implied the boy was extremely stupid. Nagi frowned back, not in the mood to play these sorts of games.  
  
"Rabbits don't eat their babies, Farf," Nagi said a little scornfully.  
  
"They do if you scare them."  
  
"Oh. Oooh." Nagi stared at him for a long time. "Are we the kittens?"  
  
Farfarello looked blank. "I thought Weiss were cats?" he offered. Nagi sighed. Perhaps Farfarello had been trying to tell him something; perhaps he was just slipping in and out of lucidity again. Whatever it was, it wasn't worth worrying about. It was gone now. 


	16. Chapter 16, dedicated to Alzchan for all...

Part Sixteen  
  
Schuldig was watching the building. They'd learnt already that she was generally the last to leave, working harder and longer than anyone else. Turned out she had a younger sister to feed.  
  
It was the last light on, illuminating a tiny square about halfway up the building, occasionally a silhouetted flitting across it. Schuldig wondered if it would be kinder to seduce her out. She clearly had no life whatsoever.  
  
He could hear her in his head, humming sadly. They'd been watching her for three days now, him and Brad alternating. Nagi needed the sleep and Farfarello couldn't be trusted alone. Schuldig frowned. So she'd brought Weiss in? She knew they were watching her.  
  
No, Weiss had brought themselves in. Made more sense. Kritiker knew something then. What? Wasn't going to get anything out of them, no matter how long he tailed Birman or Manx. They hadn't been able to find out where their HQ was, either.  
  
Schuldig sensed movement. A voice crystallised in the back of his mind. This is hell. This is hell. See you in hell, this is hell. Ah, Ken. Mourning Kase, again. Hmm, was that Yohji? Wonder if she's hot enough to date. She seems pretty lonely. I mean, she working here all alone. Wonder if she's a workaholic no-life virgin. One-track mind, that guy. Not unlike himself. Where were the others? Well, Omi could be there, but Schuldig couldn't sense him. Omi's shields were hard to break, but he could generally get a sense of the kid. And Aya? Well, he didn't seem to be there. No kill them, revenge my parents, revenge my sister, we are the white hunters, we avenge them, I am worthless compared to my sister.  
  
Schuldig grinned. Ken was edging closer, utterly unaware of his presence. Suddenly he caught a new change of track in Ken's mind. I wonder where our neko went? Poor thing, I hope it's not lost and alone. Lost kitten. It was positively sickening, but Schuldig felt an odd sense of guilt fall on him. They'd have to take the cat back then.  
  
Yohji was in the outer office now. Not good. If they got her out before Schwarz could reach her he hated to think what Tanya would do. Nagi had explained his suspicions, and they all agreed.  
  
Schuldig made a snap decision. As Ken rounded the corner he leapt from his bush and grabbed window ledge, swinging himself up. As the assassin wandered about below him, Schuldig climbed the outside of the building, using window ledges, drain pipes, fire escapes and anything he could get his fingers and toes in. Half way up he kicked off his shoes to get a better grip. There was a yelp below.  
  
Damn. Yohji appeared at a window just above him, gabbling into his radio. Schuldig could feel Ken staring at him from below. Nothing to do but continue up. Yohji's wire lashed out, missing Schuldig by inches. He speeded his ascent, carefully climbing around the reach of Yohji's wire. Yohji darted from window to window, room to room, but Schuldig continued to elude him.  
  
He reached another sill and realised the window was actually open. Hauling himself inside he took off, hearing the pounding of Yohji's feet nearby. A swift game of cat and mouse ensued, both men ducking in and out of doors and corridors. It felt like a cartoon chase to Schuldig, as most offices had at least two doors onto the same corridor, some three. They'd go in one and come out another, sometimes on the opposite side.  
  
Schuldig led Yohji through the maze of rooms, slowly drawing him away from the target by the most circuitous route he could find. As they neared the opposite side of the building, it all came down to who had memorised the blueprints for this floor better and could find the shortest route back.  
  
Schuldig froze, back to a wall. He could see the corridor and could hear Yohji pounding along it. He could also see the open closet door. He'd never be able to lock the Weiss boy in there, but it would slow Balinese down long enough for Schuldig to get a head start.  
  
He tensed. Yohji had slowed down, sensing something amiss. The wire wiped around the corner, and Schuldig jumped over it like a skipping rope. They soft pad of his feet landing alerted Yohji, however, and the blonde man rushed around the corner to slam Schuldig into the wall. except, Schuldig was no longer there.  
  
Doors and windows flying past in a motion blur, Schuldig sprinted through the building. Past stairwells and fire escapes, past board rooms and meeting rooms, past photocopiers and fax machines and computer terminals, past room after room until he ran straight into the door of Elizabeth's cubicle.  
  
He'd meant to burst the flimsy thing open, but fell back, stunned. He had maybe seconds before Yohji arrived. The bitch had put something in front of the door! So, two options: keep pushing, or climb outside again. Schuldig gave the door a quick shove, then opted for the later. Darting into another cubicle, he positively launched himself out of the window. Swinging from a drainpipe, one foot on some ornamental edging, Schuldig burst feet first through the window of the next door cubicle.  
  
He stared at the girl, curled up in fright against a door. The desk and filing cabinet were in front of the door, Schuldig noted, overkill, really. She whimpered as he approached.  
  
"Hey, you better come quick," Schuldig whispered urgently. "Someone's broken into the building. You're a hacker, right? God I hope I never find out what they want you for."  
  
"The, the other guy said to wait here, for the same reason. He said he and h,h,his partner would sort it out," she stared wild-eyed at him. So, she'd only seen one of them? Security, Schuldig supposed. But letting on there were two? Not a smart move.  
  
"I am the partner, hon. Status Quo's changed, we need to get you out." There was a thud at the door as Yohji slammed into it. Now, as long as he didn't call out, everything would be fine. "Quick!" As Yohji slammed into the door again, lacking confidence in his own human-fly abilities to follow Schuldig's route into the room, Schuldig wrapped an arm around the girl's slender waist and leaped out of the window. She screamed. From above them, Schuldig heard "Ms Hooker? I'm coming!" He couldn't stifle the grin.  
  
Five stories down, Schuldig landed on his feet and careful set the trembling girl on hers. He could hear the crackle in Ken's mind as Yohji informed him of the situation, but he could also hear a much more familiar, and welcome, presence.  
  
*Schuldig, main road. *  
  
*Sure thing. *  
  
Schuldig pulled the frightened lass with him as he bounded towards the bare tarmac strip that represented the day's busy stream of traffic. A single black BMW was pulled up on the hard shoulder. Schuldig didn't bother explain or lie to the girl as he shoved her in, she was only knocked out anyway. And she'd come around shackled to a computer, with Tanya and Tash watching her every move. They'd know if she lied, if she purposely played them false, and Schuldig would have hated to be the person who lied to Tanya. 


	17. Chapter 17, this one's for Rikkali, for ...

Part Seventeen  
  
* A/N: lots of swearing and use of the f-word, in case you're sensitive about that *  
  
Nagi was lying on his stomach, playing with the cat, in the main room when Schuldig and Crawford returned. Schuldig felt an odd pang of guilt as he watched the boy. He could send an innocent woman to her death, but he couldn't bear to part pet and boy. Well, why bother? Why not keep the animal?  
  
Brad sneezed, and Schuldig was abruptly reminded why they couldn't keep the feline. Damn allergies.  
  
Nagi glanced up briefly, then went back to tugging some string around for the cat to play with. Farfarello was oddly tolerant of the mammal, citing that as it had no soul nothing he could do to it would hurt God. He was sitting on the couch, watching boy and beast tease each other.  
  
"You know who's cat that is?" Schuldig asked in his usual blunt manner. "Weiss', that's who. We've got the kitten in the house."  
  
"We're not actually going to take it back, are we?" Nagi looked horrified.  
  
"We certainly are!" Brad snapped, rubbing his eyes with a handkerchief. He'd had enough of sneezing fits and runny eyes.  
  
"But.but."  
  
"Final word." Brad marched into his office to finish the paperwork on the mission, desperate to leave the now fur-lined room.  
  
"Maybe we could get one of those sphinx cats? They don't shed," Farfarello suggested.  
  
"They don't have any fur to shed," Schuldig pointed out. "If they weren't so butt-ugly that would an almost good idea. Maybe a snake or something?"  
  
"I'm not living with a reptile," Nagi frowned.  
  
"Hey, isn't it past your bed time, chibi?" Schuldig raised an eyebrow. "We'll take the cat back tomorrow. It's a Sunday, so the shop will be nice and full of fan girls. Weiss won't be able to do a thing."  
  
"I don't want to take the cat back. I want to keep it. We found it, it came here of its own free will-"  
  
"Actually, it was in the car, so it didn't get much choice. Now bed!"  
  
"Can I put Farfarello to bed first?" Nagi stubbornly refused to give up the fight.  
  
"Does Farfarello want to go to bed?" Schuldig snapped back.  
  
"-"  
  
"Of course he does! I always put him to bed, I always give him his medication, I always calm him down, I-"  
  
"Enough!" Schuldig roared. "Go. To. Bed. You too, Farfarello."  
  
"-"  
  
"He needs to be hung up!"  
  
"I think I can handle that," Schuldig said icily. "Kid, if you know what's good for you, you'll scarper. I have not had a good night. Fucking Balinese."  
  
"Really? Does Brad know?" Nagi's eyes widened in a mock innocence that parodied his too-knowing tone.  
  
"-"  
  
"Shut the fuck up, both of you! Get out of my fucking sight, now!"  
  
"I damn well won't! You arsehole, you think you rule this place! I hate you! You don't control me, you can't tell me what to do and if you do you can say goodbye to your skeleton!"  
  
"Are you threatening me?"  
  
"And if I am? I warn you, one step closer and you'll have double the bones you used to."  
  
"Oh really? You couldn't. Not while I've got my mind on you. Go to bed, you little butt fucking whore."  
  
"Go to bed yourself, it's time for you to start work."  
  
"That's it!"  
  
"Yes, I rather think it is." Crawford's icy tone cut through the argument. "Nagi, bed. Schuldig, you're sleeping on the couch tonight, I think. I expected better from both of you." Neither could meet his gaze. The power of his glare still held sway over minds that had resisted the harshest brainwashing SS had had to offer. Nagi slunk away, his hostility evident in his every movement. Suddenly that cat found itself flying through the air to disappear through Nagi's door just before he slammed it. "Brad?"  
  
"What."  
  
"I'm not really sleeping on the couch, am I? I mean, Nagi started it. He should know better than to talk back to me."  
  
"You should know better than to try and force him to do something he doesn't want to. And yes. I'm not sleeping with someone who uses that sort of language around minors."  
  
"Yeah right. Nagi's got a fuller vocabulary than me! He's sixteen, for fuck's sake. What did I do?"  
  
Brad retained his silence as he swept regally into the master bedroom. Schuldig sat heavily on the couch, glowering and Farfarello. "What you looking at?" he growled.  
  
Brad climbed into the large, lonely bed. He fingers curled around the soft sheets, drawing them up over his head. Sometimes he just couldn't cope with Schuldig. He could control Schuldig, but he couldn't make him want to stop. The friction between them had been worse before they started sleeping together, but it still remained.  
  
Schuldig was volatile and excitable, quick to laugh and quicker to anger, sadistic and depraved, with a desperate need to be recognised. Schuldig needed to be acknowledged, he needed to be depended on and, at the same time, to have someone to depend on. A wry smile, tinged with bitter sadness, tugged at Brad's mouth. Schuldig needed someone to lay the blame on and take the credit from.  
  
Brad, on the other hand, needed control. He hated dependency in all its forms. He static emotionally, except when roused to great anger, and had little patience for those who let their emotions overwhelm them at every interval. That was why he got on so well with Nagi. He had his own knack for inflicting pain, with carefully chosen words and measured tones, that lasted long after whatever scars Schuldig or Farfarello inflicted faded. He was pragmatic, practical, patient, a planner and plotter. In Schuldig's words, he was 'an anal-retentive control freak'. Probably not too far off the mark, if Brad was being honest with himself.  
  
So how was it supposed to work? There were times when he couldn't stand Schuldig's presence. There were times when Schuldig hated to be around him. It was a relationship sustained on lust, as far as Brad could see. They were two people who had only managed to tolerate each other so far due to stressful circumstances beyond their control. Really, one of them had to go before the team was torn apart.  
  
It didn't occur to Brad that one of them leaving would tear the team apart.  
  
* * *  
  
Schuldig glowered at the cat. It stared impassively back. If it was possible, he was in a worse mood than he had been in last night. Emotions were running high in the Schwarz household, and he was getting the lion's share. Nagi was furious at being treated like a child, looked down on, patronised. Brad was in a depressive mood, thinking about something Schuldig couldn't reach, but didn't bode well. Farfarello was upset at being ignored and was worried about the fight last night, reacting to the stress the only way he knew how, taking chunks out of his arms and screaming a lot. Occasionally Schuldig would hear a muffled thump as he ran into a wall and starching as he tried to pull the door off it's hinges.  
  
The phone rang. Schuldig answered it before Brad could, something unusual enough to show how badly Brad was upset.  
  
"Ja?"  
  
"Schuldig?"  
  
"Ja?"  
  
"It is Tanya."  
  
"Ja?"  
  
"How did it go?"  
  
"You've got the girl, haven't you? How do you think it verdammt well went?"  
  
"Hmm."  
  
"What?" Schuldig was rapidly losing patience with the enigmatic Russian.  
  
"Weiss?"  
  
"Ja, they were there. So?"  
  
"Someone leaked."  
  
"Yeah well, a lot seems to get past you and your pet telempath. Like that pyrokinetic."  
  
"We have offered apologies for that clerical error."  
  
"Scheisse, you're kidding me, Ja?" As Schuldig's temper frayed he slipped back into his native tongue more and more frequently. "'Clerical error'? Someone buggered up big time. That would have cost lives before. Is SS going soft?"  
  
"I would like to speak with Bradley."  
  
"Sorry, 'Buttercup' ain't available just now. Can I take a message?" Acid sarcasm dripped off his tongue, leaving sizzling holes in the carpet of the consciousness.  
  
"Yes. Tell him we will meet soon. We have to discuss Weiss."  
  
"Danke," Schuldig said incredulously. How thick was this woman? "Anything else, weibsstuck?" he snapped.  
  
"Yes, I think so. Take the kitten back, the four of you."  
  
"Danke, ja, mutterfukker sp? I don't actually do German, and my sister's dictionary is sorely lacking in swear words. Done now?"  
  
"Yes. Thank you for your time. We will see you at the flower shop at nine this evening."  
  
"Wha-" Schuldig found himself screaming at a dial tone. He stared at the receiver, clutched in a white-knuckled hand, and hurled it across the room. It hit the master bedroom door, leaving a faint but obvious dent. Schuldig released a torrent of swearwords to turn the air blue, cursing and screaming at the top of his voice, in every language he could think of. Eventually he noticed Brad, staring at him.  
  
"Must you always make such a fuss?" he raised an eyebrow, just visible over the rim of his glasses. They were extremely shiny, another sign something was bothering him. It was a sort of tic, polishing his glasses, that he used when annoyed, nervous or just bored.  
  
"Do you know what that weibsstuck has cornered us into doing? Going to Weiss. Talking to Weiss. She's going to fucking team us up with fucking Wiess!"  
  
"I am well aware of the situation. If it is so objectionable to you, I suggest you leave."  
  
It wasn't until Schuldig was standing on the pavement outside, having stormed out of the apartment slamming the door, that what Brad meant sunk in. 'I suggest you leave'. and don't come back. After a moment's consideration, Schuldig shoved his hands in his pockets and began the make his way down the road. Far above him, Brad watched through a half open window. 


	18. Chapter 18

Part Eighteen  
  
  
  
Farfarello took a while to regain consciousness after slicing himself to ribbons, but he did eventually. Nagi was kneeling next to him, carefully washing and cleaning the self-inflicted wounds. Farfarello hid the smile he knew would hurt the kid. So maybe that didn't fit with his normal personality, but Nagi was clearly so hated by God it felt right to be nice to him.  
  
"Schuldig's gone out," Nagi informed him in a soft monotone. "We don't know when he'll be back. Crawford is displeased."  
  
"Did ye get that information ye wanted?"  
  
"From the Trojan? Yes. I haven't had the nerve to show it to Crawford yet."  
  
"That bad?"  
  
"Worse."  
  
They sat in silence. Farfarello watched as Nagi used the remains of an old shirt to wipe the crusted blood form his chest, narrow fingers gentle on skin that couldn't feel whether he was or not. There were several areas of brown dried blood spread across the tiled floor, and a pool of congealing liquid clogging a drain in the centre of the room. The padded walls, once off white, were now off red, and even the high ceiling had a few splatters on it.  
  
"It was bad," Nagi sighed, finally finishing Farfarello's milky skin. He leant against the clammy chest and let Farfarello take him in his arms. Nagi would only let him do this, only let him take this little familiarity. Nagi didn't like being touched. But Farfarello was okay, Farfarello was celibate, Farfarello probably couldn't do it if he wanted to, his nerve endings rendered obsolete by the unfelt pain, and therefore unfelt pleasure.  
  
"Yes. Sometimes you can just drive happily for hours, but as soon as you hit fifth gear, bang goes the engine." Nagi flinched at Farfarello's reminder of the unhappy country he came from. He'd almost asked, once, whether Farfarello had ever contemplated joining the IRA, but at the mention of the conflict Farfarello's look had been enough to silence him on that subject forever. "Half an pound of tu'penny rice," Farfarello began to sing in a haunting whisper, "half a pound of treacle, if that's the way the money goes, pop goes the weasel."  
  
Nagi tucked his head under Farfarello's chin, and let the older man stroke his hair as he moved on to another nursery rhyme. Just singing in a minor key was freaky enough, but taking the lyrics in the context Farfarello no doubt meant them. "Boys and girls come out to play, the moon doth shi-ine as bright as day, bring your supper and bring your sweets, and come to your playfellows in the streets. Come with a whoop or come with a call, come with a good will or not at all, up the ladder and down the wall, a penny loaf will serve us all. Boys and girls come out to play, the moon doth shi- ine as bright as day, bring your supper and bring your sweets, and come to your playfellows in the streets."  
  
"Farfarello! Nagi!" The commanding voice rang out through the apartment. Nagi sat up in Farfarello's lap, stretching carefully. Farfarello arched his back.  
  
"What do we need with a cat, aye, when we have a Nagi to stroke and play with?" Farfarello made a meagre attempt to cheer Nagi up, seeing the look on the boy's face. It had been barely two days, and already he was extremely attached to the cat.  
  
"Only you, Farf, only you can do that. I'd never let anyone else."  
  
Nagi walked out of the room, the padded cell, and Farfarello pulled on a pair of trousers as he followed, oddly touched.  
  
Crawford was pacing around the main room, arms folded across his chest. Nagi didn't flinch from the cold stare, knowing it was meant more for the absent Schuldig than it was directed at him, but as he saw himself reflected in those fathomless glasses fear was not far from him.  
  
"We are going to do as we are told," Crawford told the brusquely. He didn't sound happy about it. "It's the only way to find out what's going on."  
  
"I. I have found out something," Nagi ventured. "I traced the data that girl was hacking for."  
  
"And what?"  
  
Nagi silently handed him the sheets of paper he'd printed out. It was almost an entire ream. Crawford sighed.  
  
"Summarise."  
  
"They've found away to take away our powers, and to give them to other people. There were plans to convert Weiss, before. They thought Ran would put up less of a fuss if he was converted. They never perfected it.  
  
"Then. do you remember when we were in Germany, and Tash mentioned something about psychics not having children? It turns out we're all sterilised on arrival. The children of psychics tend to be incredibly gifted with only one psychic parent. They'd never found out what happened to children with both parents psychic. It wasn't just a loyalty thing.  
  
"Except, well, we're all exceptionally powerful, right? As are most of the 'survivors'. It was what they were afraid of, really powerful psychics. Hence the excessive brainwashing. They thought that we all had at least one psychic parent. It scared them. We were supposed to die when. when." Nagi trailed off, swallowing hard.  
  
"There's more?" Crawford asked, a hint of gentleness creeping into his otherwise unyielding tone.  
  
"There are a lot of undiscovered's out there. Some have had time to start families. SS only got about 70%, most of the time. And the numbers are multiplying, the statistics seem to indicate." Nagi's speech patterns became more and more irregular as he became distraught and grew more distracted. "It's worldwide, it's a bit thing. Worldwide. Everywhere. It's a mutation. We're freaks!"  
  
"We already knew that," Farfarello observed wryly. Nagi's mouth snapped shut.  
  
"Yes, I guess so. Anyway, that's not the worst. There were a lot of personal files in there, including all of us, Tanya and Tash. The five most powerful psychics left in this world. There's some question as to where our talents come from, they seem to think that at least one of us may have had a psychic parent, but they couldn't back it up at the time. Tanya definitely did. does? Tash. Tash was an experiment, an SS experiment. Tash, she had both parents psychic. She's more than psychic. I. I don't know what you'd call it. SS didn't either. They kept trying to kill her.  
  
"Crawford, Brad. They couldn't. Her power is phenomenal. Apparantly, most Telempath's can't override other people's emotions. It's supposed to be a passive talent! Tanya had one psychic parent, and we all know how powerful she is. So how come she has to take so many precautions to prevent overloading, but Tash can wander around in any city of the world without trouble?"  
  
Nagi stared at Crawford, who was taking this in numbly. "At least there have been no indications of hostile intent," he finally muttered. "And I suppose she finally knows all this?"  
  
"I. I think she may have before. The file hints at SS's attempt to kill her. They weren't particularly subtle. It doesn't go into detail though. There's. gaps."  
  
"You are implying someone got in first? Deleted the relevant information?"  
  
"I think. I think it went out when the ancients did. A lot of stuff disappeared then. They actually had links to some of the most dangerous documents."  
  
"So Tanya's searches are likely to be somewhat fruitless?"  
  
"I don't know. What they considered important and what Tanya does seem to be different things. "  
  
"If we knew what she wanted with SS we could make an estimate at what she's looking for, but we don't. I just wonder. what will Tash do now? She knows she has the power to do whatever she wants."  
  
"She's friendly, really. She's a telempath, Crawford. All she wants is for the people around her to be happy. I don't think she's going to be much of danger, yet, at any rate."  
  
"Hmmm." Crawford weighed the ream of paper in one hand, an introspective look on his face. "Are the files in here? The personal files?"  
  
"Yessir."  
  
"Thank you, Nagi. Please inform me when Schuldig returns. We will have to be on our guards when we make our way to the Koneko. Tanya intends to join us with Weiss."  
  
Nagi's jaw dropped. Farfarello raised an eyebrow. "That won't go down well," he observed. Crawford just shook his head, whether in disagreement with Farfarello's statement or at the folly of Tanya's plan, Nagi couldn't determine, and walked into his office.  
  
"Our case files?" Farfarello questioned.  
  
"Uh-huh." Nagi slumped against a handy wall.  
  
"Did you read them?"  
  
"Skimmed, a little," Nagi admitted.  
  
"Anything. interesting?" Farfarello's grin was positively feral, and Nagi suddenly felt a cold shiver run like iced water down his spine. He hadn't to think what Farfarello could do with some of the stuff he had found.  
  
"I just skimmed," Nagi insisted, "I didn't intrude."  
  
Farfarello's look said more than his enigmatic statement: "There is a difference between intrusion and trespassing." 


	19. Chapter 19

Part Nineteen  
  
Long part. Ah well.   
  
He was angry at Crawford, angry that Brad clearly still like this Tanya woman, maybe more than he liked Schuldig, angry that Brad was willing to put her before Schuldig. So Brad didn't want him any more. Hell, there were plenty of others who did! Schuldig stared at his reflection in a shop window. His hair was sexily mussed, his body relaxed in its most alluring pose, his grin curving towards a smirk, but his eyes betrayed the look. He wondered what it was coming to when your own eyes haunted you.  
  
He turned away from the window and stared down the street. And thousand people doing a thousand things in a thousand ways, and each one thinking a thousand splintered thoughts. His head shuddered under the weight of it all, but he couldn't let go. No, literally, couldn't.  
  
He tried to remember the last time he'd had an 'episode', the last time it had all been too much. Before Tanya arrived. Well, that had been bad. But surely, that would have left him even more vulnerable? And didn't he usually have to take something at least once a week to shut out the voices long enough to merely sleep?  
  
But he hadn't. He could hear it all, of course, but he couldn't submerge himself in it, he couldn't lose himself. And he really, really wanted to get lost right now.  
  
He kicked at a stone, watching it skitter into the gutter. Gott, his head hurt. Like a pressure, building up inside. Like they say birth isn't pain, it's just pressure. Schuldig knew what birth felt like; he'd been there. Something no man should have to go through. Damn he was glad to be male. His head throbbed, like a thunderstorm was brewing on the inside. When he closed his eyes he could see the lightning, when he covered his ears he could hear the thunder.  
  
He caught a brief flash of curiosity from someone nearby, wondering what was wrong with the poor gweilo, that he closed his eyes and covered his ears. Claustrophobia? Agrophobia(sp)? He blinked and lowered his arms. Something else caught his attention. Is that man mad, is he hurt, is he sick, is he safe. Damn them! It's another one of them, I wonder why they let people like that out, should be in an asylum- No! Poor man, needs help. Did he really look so insane to them? I wonder if he's like the man in the bus station? Thinks he's Mussolini.  
  
Schuldig froze, his eyes open in shock. Suddenly everything was blown back into proportion, suddenly life hit him like a wet fish. (Wet fish? What the fuck is up with my subconscious? Wet bloody fish! Like hell.) His fingers grasped at a lamp post, using it for balance. He was attracting even more attention, if that was possible. He'd gone from 'possibly-mentally- subnormal-but-probably-harmless,-just-like-a-little-kid-really-probably- feeling-lost-and-alone.' to 'oh-shit-oh-shit-oh-shit-he's-dangerous-and-he- seems-toe-having-some-sort-of-episode-and-I-bet-he's-on-drugs-and-oh-god- I've-got-to-get-the-kids-out-of-here.'. He felt almost flattered.  
  
Schuldig sank to the pavement, legs finally giving out. Leaning against the filthy shop front, he closed his eyes and tucked his head between his knees. We seem to be experiencing some minor technical difficulties, please assume crash position. Schuldig didn't bother work out whether it was his head or someone else's. The wry humour seemed a little unsympathetic for a stranger.  
  
A whimper escaped his throat. Schuldig's mind seemed to shatter; one piece for past, one piece for future, one piece for him, one piece for them. he clutched his head, trying to draw himself in, trying to cling to what he knew was real, what he knew was now, what he knew was him. Poor, poor Schuldig, a voice whispered, crying like a baby, lost in a strange city. It was so cruel, it felt it must be him. Who else could turn that trick for mind games, who else could hurt people like him? Damn, he'd never realised how much it hurt to be treated like that.  
  
Day faded into night, and Schuldig didn't move. The crowds wandered aimlessly around him, searching for a better book, better dishwasher, better house, better family, better person to be. Schuldig despised them all. Despised their petty wants. Despised their petty needs. Despised their petty lives. Despised the jealousy they inspired in him. Despicable!  
  
Slowly, the streets began to empty. It occurred to Schuldig that they would soon fill again. If he wanted any piece he had to get back to the flat. Even there, it would be noisy, and Brad didn't want him, but his drugs were there. He could knock himself out for days, if he wanted to. Knock himself out for good. Brad could deal with a corpse, right? He dealt with enough.  
  
He struggled to his feet, legs unwilling to co-operate. He muscles screamed blue murder as he propped himself against the window. Trembling fingers sought desperately for a cigarette, aching hands clasped the unreliable lighter in sweaty palms. He became more and more frantic as it failed to light. His frustration almost sent him into tears as he got it lit only to drop the dog-eared cigarette.  
  
Schuldig stared at the stub on the pavement, willing himself not to bend and pick it up His back tortured him with every inch he lent over. He had to stop at less than twenty degrees, his body unable to do as his nicotine- starved mind bid it.  
  
Schuldig closed his eyes and prepared to collapse back to the pavement. Maybe, maybe if he left his wallet somewhere obvious someone would knife him to take it? Red and white danced on the inside of his eyelids, like someone was shining a torch in his eyes. It was pretty, like fire.  
  
Schuldig cracked his eyes open and stared at the tiny flame. Gentle hands inserted a cigarette between his lips and lit it for him. Not his normal sort. Expensive. Very much so. Better tasting, too, and better health wise. Schuldig could visualise the packet it must have come from, an understated English brand, lying on a leather-inlaid desk in a simple white office.  
  
"Danke," he croaked.  
  
"How long have you been here?" a 'concerned-but-trying-to-hide-it' Bradley asked.  
  
Schuldig tried to shrug, flinched, and said "Too long."  
  
"So I gathered. Were you intending to come back?"  
  
"You told me to go." Schuldig's eyes slid listlessly around, trying not to meet Brad's eyes. It hurt, goddamnit!  
  
"I told you to go if you could never work with Weiss. And I didn't say you couldn't come back," Brad told him sincerely.  
  
"You didn't want me to come back. You meant 'don't come back'. You thought 'don't come back'," Schuldig accused. "I was going to be difficult, you weren't willing to put up with that. Do I get to keep the car?"  
  
"Schuldig, come back. Don't be an idiot about this. You have to read what Nagi's found, you need to take some of your drugs, and you need to take a bath. Really, really need a bath."  
  
Schuldig raised his eyes to meet Brad's, and spotted a glimpse of humour lurking in the depths. Schuldig would never say it to his boss's face, but Brad was developing laughter lines around the corner's of his eyes, little crow's-feet that gave a softness to the otherwise harsh lines of his face. Schuldig grinned, and Brad smiled back.  
  
But that didn't mean it was all going to be okay, not by a long shot.  
  
* * *  
  
Schuldig stretched out in the bathtub. Brad had run the bath for him, laid out some medication and made him a hot cup of tea before he even left. The tea was stone cold, but Schuldig wasn't complaining. He was, however suspicious.  
  
"Why, Braddikins?"  
  
Brad raised his head to glower at him, but it turned into more of a squint. The steam in the bathroom had fogged up his glasses, now lying on the cold porcelain sink, and Brad had refused to leave until they had spoken. He was sitting on a sagging wicker linen basket, leaning his elbows on his knees.  
  
"Why what, Schuldig? Why are we being told to work with Weiss? Why did I come out to find you? Why is-"  
  
"Why did they chop off a bunch of my mind?" Schuldig interrupted. "Plus those other ones."  
  
"I don't follow."  
  
"They resurrected my shields. My SS shields. You know, the ones I tore down as soon as we reached Japan the first time? The one I replaced with my own, patchy shielding."  
  
"And you've been cut off again? I don't know."  
  
"It's a hell of a lot worse than SS shields, Bradley." Schuldig's tone caused Brad to raise his head sharply. Schuldig never used his full name. "Before, I missed emotions. The ones that would hinder me. Now, it's memories. Big ones. I had no idea how deep it went until today, Brad. I knew. I knew there were gaps, but I've always had gaps. I didn't know I didn't know, if you know what I mean."  
  
"Oddly, enough, I think I do. Emotions, you said? Do you suppose they did that to everyone?"  
  
"How the fuck should I know? I mean, Nagi's always been a bit unemotional, and you, too. But the only shields in your head, at least, the only ones I've ever encountered, are your own. And I'd say Nagi is just emotionally traumatised. Easier not to feel.  
  
"Now can we get back to talking about me? This is me time, you know."  
  
Brad permitted himself a private smile, unseen through the mist. Schuldig knew what and when he wanted something. He would have to tell him about the files later though. Everything was adding up in a very worrying manner.  
  
"So, I've got this splitting headache, right, and people are looking at me funny. And this one person thinks 'wonder if he's like that guy who thinks he's' that Italian dictator, you know, oh yes 'Mussolini'. And suddenly I freak. This memory grabs me and I realise that I didn't even know I'd forgotten it. Brad, it was one of my defining memories. You know how people have defining moments in their lives, life decisions, events, whatever? This was one of mine, in a way. And I'd forgotten it ever happened."  
  
Brad's lips thinned. He wouldn't admit it, but the curiosity was killing him. Mussolini? How on earth could Mussolini bring on a flashback. Unless Schuldig was talking about previous lives.  
  
"Don't be an idiot, you know I don't believe in that reincarnation crap. And if you're so damn curious, just ask."  
  
*You want to tell me, * Brad prompted.  
  
*And what if I do? I'm still going to make you beg, you know. I like it when you beg. * Schuldig leered from the bath, the effect rather being lost on Brad, who saw little more than a fuzzy pale blob, surrounded by a fuzzy orange halo of what might be hair, or fire, or for all Brad knew, oranges.  
  
*I'm not going to beg. I'm not that desperate. * Well, maybe he was a little desperate. And they both knew this had nothing to do with Schuldig's memories. *Curiosity killed the cat. Speaking of which, that thing- *  
  
*And satisfaction brought it back. *  
  
*Has to be. What? *  
  
*Second part of that saying. And you look like you could do with some 'satisfaction'. * Schuldig didn't bother with a leer this time; he just projected the attitude into Brad's mind. "I can't get no satisfaction." Schuldig began warbling.  
  
"After you're little 'shock' you've recovered remarkably quickly," Brad observed.  
  
"Well, if anyone knows about my recovery time, it's you."  
  
"I walked into that one."  
  
"Uh-huh. Enough flirting?" Schuldig began to lift himself out of the bath.  
  
"Quite." Schuldig grinned as he walked past Brad into the bedroom. He sprawled out on the bed, and blinked in surprise as a towel hit him.  
  
"Tell me what happened," Brad commanded. "There's a lot at stake. As soon as we figure out why they shut off parts of your mind the better. We're going to the Koneko tomorrow."  
  
What the fuck!?! No, what the lack of fuck? Schuldig stared at Br- Crawford. So it was all work and no play now? He supposed. He didn't know what he supposed. What the fuck had he done to get Brad angry with him? Again?  
  
"Fine," Schuldig growled. "Let's see. When I was a kid, there was this guy who hung around near my school. Old guy. Used to ramble a lot. He thought he was Hitler."  
  
"That's it?"  
  
"No. I remembered that. It's not actual events I'm missing, Crawford, it's things associated with the events.  
  
"I used to believe, utterly, that he was Hitler. He did, so I assumed he must be. I didn't understand much about the human mind's love of self- deception then, though it wasn't long before I did. It wasn't until a few years into Rosenkruez I remembered him, you see. And I suddenly wondered if he actually was Hitler, or whether he was just nuts. And I've always wanted to go back and find out. That was what I forgot. That I didn't know, and never will, whether the guy was actually Hitler or not. That I always wondered, that I always wanted to know. Tat that was what made me accept my talent."  
  
"That made you accept your talent? The urge to find out whether an old man used to be a dictator?"  
  
"Ja. As they say, it takes all sorts."  
  
"Quite."  
  
Brad sat on the bed, his back to Schuldig. Schuldig was sprawled across the coverlet, legs spread and towel trailed between them. He was doing his damndest to look alluring, and it was working. Suddenly, Brad felt the white towel being draped across his shoulders. It took all the strength of will he possessed not to turn around. There was something about Schuldig dressing, and undressing, that Brad loved to watch. Perhaps it was the vulnerability Schuldig exuded as he balanced on one leg, shirt half on, jeans around one ankle, one sock on his hand and the other dangling off his foot and he tried to tie his shoelaces. Brad had never understood why Schuldig tried to put on, or take off, everything at once.  
  
"So, what's this I don't know?" Schuldig asked, flopping back down on the bed, sending a wave through the mattress to bob Brad up and down. Brad gestured to the bedside table. "Scheisse. I don't have to read that, do I?"  
  
"I already have. Now, we have to go and meet Weiss."  
  
"What if I don't want to?"  
  
"I believe I already gave you that ultimatum."  
  
There was stunned silence. Schuldig sat still, one leg extended above his head as he froze in the middle of pulling his sock on. Wasn't that over? Hadn't they already made up? Hell, he'd thought they had. He'd thought Brad coming to find him was both an apology and a show of forgiveness. He hadn't actually meant. Had he?  
  
"I have to leave?"  
  
"If we are to work with them and you are unable to accept that, yes. I will not have you jeopardising this team."  
  
"Working with Weiss will jeopardise the team. Surely you can see that?"  
  
"It won't." The words were final.  
  
Schuldig finally lowered his leg. Brad wanted he to leave. He could feel it, hanging over the words like a cloud. Brad thought he was jeopardising the team and wished he would leave. "I don't want to go," Schuldig said to himself in a small voice. Brad chose not to hear him. Schuldig pulled his knees up under his chin. Leave Schwarz? Never going to happen. Couldn't. He was Schwarz. He was Schuldig Schwarz. Said so on his passport. Schwarz. Schwarz were forever, right? Schwarz were the team Brad was always going on about his priority, his responsibility, his team.  
  
So, he was going to go? He was going to be Weiss as well? "I'm not sure I want to be Grau."  
  
"What?" Brad was standing by the door, Schuldig realised.  
  
"Grau. Both Schwarz and Weiss."  
  
"I see. Are you going to come?"  
  
"Ja," Schuldig sighed. "I guess I don't have a choice in the matter." He clambered off of the bed.  
  
"There's always a choice."  
  
Yes, Schuldig thought miserably. Shall I live another day or quit now? Now seems so much more appealing at the moment. 


	20. Chapter 20

Okay, technically, I've finished this. Everybody say 'Yay'! *deafening silence * Okay, okay, I'll update even more regularly. Still checking for nasty little mistakes at the moments and too OOC moments. Also, getting ready for a sequel. Please R&R, it reminds me to write. Seriously, people at Mediaminer.org were stuck waiting over a month for the next few parts (there's a bit more up there, but not much) because nobody reviewed and I forgot people read this stuff. Plus, it gives me inspiration. Expect a few weird A/Ns at the top from time to time, I wrote those as I was going along. Anyway, now off I trot to actually read some stuff, since I've been so busy writing in the past few days (10 chapters and a epilogue in three days!) I haven't seen a single other person's fanfic :o( Long enough note, you think? Lucky this is one of the shorter chapters.   
  
  
  
  
  
Part Twenty  
  
It was a true Hidaka Ken moment. Upon seeing Schwarz force their way into the shop shortly after closing, the shocked ex-J-leaguer promptly tripped over a flowerpot, lost his grip on the open compost bag he was carrying, fell face first into a flower display, knocked over a watering can and tumbled to a halt at Oracle's feet. Which were covered in compost. As was the rest of the white suit.  
  
"And this is the material they expect us to work with," Mastermind growled in English. Schuldig caught the offended stain in Ken's mind and was mildly surprised. Huh, he actually speaks it. Ken scrambled to his feet, blushing and growling simultaneously.  
  
"Your cat?" Oracle held a cat basket out at arms length. The feline inside mewed pitifully. The look of disgust on Oracle's face enraged Ken, who snatched the basket from him but didn't release the cat.  
  
"Kenken, what's-" Yohji froze in midsentence. Schwarz? Damn. They'd thought Schwarz were dead until the other night, and now, all four? Schuldig, yes, Yohji had known, but all four? Ohshit.  
  
"Your cat." Oracle said again.  
  
"It got in our car," Schuldig offered, "when it was raining."  
  
"I bet they've planted some sort of bug on it," Ken hissed to Yohji. "We can't let it out!"  
  
"It's almost certainly got fleas, if that's what you mean," Oracle interrupted in a drawled monotone.  
  
"If you are just returning the cat," Yohji asked slowly, not taking his eyes from Schuldig, "why are all of you here?"  
  
"Because we're not just returning the cat," Nagi gave him a withering stare.  
  
"Oh."  
  
*Hello, Kitty. * Schuldig leered mentally at Yohji. *Miss me? *  
  
*Fuck off. * Yohji glowered at him.  
  
*Didn't we already do that? You do, don't you? Miss me. What, the ice-queen not putting out? *  
  
*Huh? Manx? * Yohji looked bewildered. Even Ken had picked up on the fact there was some unheard conversation going on. Crawford just looked contemptuous.  
  
*Schuldig. * he warned.  
  
*We'll play later, okay? I'll make you purr, pussy kitten. * Schuldig smirked at the obviously unnerved assassin. Suddenly, a snippet of information reached him that was too good to pass over.  
  
"What do you mean, your teammates don't know you sleep with men?" Schuldig crowed.  
  
"He's lying!" Yohji spluttered. "He's just trying to unnerve us. Ignore him, Ken!"  
  
Ken nodded fervently. The nodding slowed and Ken gave Yohji a suddenly speculative look. "You do that, Balinese, if you did, it wouldn't matter? No one's going to judge you for it."  
  
"I'M STRAIGHT!" Yohji wailed.  
  
"I'm glad to hear it," Aya spoke suddenly. He'd been standing behind a display, unnoticed by the room's other occupants.  
  
Schuldig couldn't help it. He didn't give a damn if the red head knew he was poking around in his head, he had to know.  
  
Well. Nothing I didn't know already. Well.  
  
Schuldig frowned, and dive a little deeper. Aya's subconscious unfolded before him. Aya had noticed his presence now, and colours of alarm swirled through the maelstrom that was the subconscious, layer after layer of secrets and desires, fears and furies, loves and hates.  
  
He's penetrating my mind! Aya's panicked thoughts reached him as he delved deeper. And I'm just opening up for him. Opening up as he pushes further in. Schuldig smirked. What, the guy couldn't see the sexual metaphor in his talent? No, he really couldn't. Even as words like 'penetrates' flitted through the increasingly splintered consciousness, he had no idea. Damn, he was repressed.  
  
"Yohji's not straight," Schuldig murmured.  
  
Not straight? Not. Would he? Does he? Could I? No. Not for me. Don't, can't, won't. Don't deserve it. Can't have it. Him. Hate. Just hate. No love. Can't. Not now. Too bad.  
  
Schuldig frowned. Could he insert.?  
  
* Won't. Not can't, not don't. Won't. * Won't? Won't have him? Won't deserve him? *Won't believe you can have him. Won't believe you deserve him. Not don't. * Not too bad? I.  
  
Orchid eyes fluttered under the weight of Schuldig's mind.  
  
*Enough. * Schuldig blinked. Crawford? What was he.? Oh, yes. Schuldig obediently withdrew. Aya's own mental shields snapped down. Not to keep Schuldig out, but to keep Ran in. He didn't want to know. Schuldig felt a brief pang of sympathy for both Aya and Yohji. Well, maybe one day.  
  
Finally, the fourth and final member of Weiss appeared in the shop. Omi leant against the door. Nagi turned slowly to look at him. The unspoken question: 'what do we say, what do we tell?' lay between them. The unspoken answer: 'nothing,' satisfied neither of them.  
  
"We're to go to the mission room. Birman told me earlier to expect this."  
  
"But."  
  
"All of us, Schwarz included. There's been a proposal."  
  
"Just to make it absolutely clear," Schuldig butted in, "I don't want to do this. I just don't have a choice."  
  
Brad frowned as he followed Weiss into the basement, unseen by Schuldig. There had been a choice. Schuldig had just made the wrong decision.  
  
They all sat stiffly. There weren't quite enough seats, so Farfarello stood, as did Ken. Schuldig shared a small coach, well, a 'loveseat', with Crawford. Aya, Yohji and Omi shared the larger sofa. Nagi was sitting where he was, by habit, most comfortable: the computer chair.  
  
"We're going to team up? Why?" The horror in Ken's tone was obvious.  
  
"Tanya says jump." Schuldig grumbled.  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Our boss," a female voice supplied. All heads turned to stare at the telempath at the top of the stairs. "-will be a little late," she finished.  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"There has been a. development. Manx and Birman have been similarly detained."  
  
Alarm bells began to ring in Aya's head. They weren't the sort of women to be 'detained', the women who had brought him to Weiss and made him part of the group. Schuldig noted this with interest.  
  
"So, no Tanya breathing over your shoulder?" Schuldig asked.  
  
"I guess not," Tash gave him a worried look. "What do you have in mind, Schuldig?"  
  
"Dinner, a movie, then back to mine for coffee?" Schuldig smirked. "I mean, if your lesbian lover's let you off the leash."  
  
Tash looked blank. Then it dawned. She blushed. "Tanya and I. we don't. We haven't."  
  
"Oh, come on," Schuldig leered.  
  
Tash composed herself. "No, you. Surely you must see how ridiculous the idea is? A telempath and a clairvoyant? Neither able to bear being in physical contact with others? You are kidding me, right?"  
  
"Hey, I didn't say it was happening. I just like to think it is."  
  
"Oh. Ri-ight." Tash rolled her eyes. "Male."  
  
"Let me check," Schuldig made a show of pulling his waistband from his hips and staring into the shadow. "Very much so, I'm afraid. No, wait, you should be the one afraid." He leered again.  
  
Yohji felt odd. Was this how the others felt, when he flirted with Manx? Uncomfortable, excluded, embarrassed to witness such a predestined failure? And why the hell wasn't he flirting with this hot girl? He was straight!  
  
"You know," Schuldig added in aside, "the harder you try to prove it the more obvious it is you're not." Yohji glowered at him.  
  
"I think Tanya has arrived," Tash announced. "I don't think she's happy. She doesn't like the Tokyo traffic."  
  
"No one does, darhlink," Schuldig drawled. "So, go project. Give her a happy. Gott knows I don't want to talk to a pissed off Tanya."  
  
Tash's brows puckered. Only Farfarello noticed. 


	21. Chapter 21

Part Twenty-One  
  
*A/N: short one this, but nasty. And it gets worse. *  
  
Tanya leant against the wall near the door. Birman and Manx followed her through it. Birman was smiling. Manx was positively grinning. Yohji didn't even open his mouth. Ken noticed this unusual behaviour, and frowned. Of course, why would either woman smile upon walking into a room containing Schwarz?  
  
Tanya was dressed in a multitude of sarongs and saris, with a wrap around her entire head. She was swathed in cloth, perhaps a little incongruous in the summer heat, but people found it easy to assume she dressed as she did for religious reasons. Brad's eyes skimmed her figure, and found it pleasing. Schuldig's eyes skimmed her figure and the green-eyed monster reared its ugly head. Nagi didn't even look up, and Farfarello was still staring at Tash.  
  
Weiss were also paying their regards to the stranger. Yohji's mouth had begun to curve in a licentious grin, Ken had started to blush, Omi was eyeing her critically and Aya was glowering. Birman's smile was beginning to fade, and she was regarding both of the strange women with suspicion, as well as Schwarz.  
  
"I don't think this is a wise idea," Crawford broke the silence. Tanya unwrapped a portion of her face to stare at him.  
  
"You're not in a position to comment," she told him icily. "What would you do without us?"  
  
"You're asking the wrong question, doll," Schuldig sneered. "It's what we're going to do with you that's what you should be worrying about."  
  
"You can't touch me," Tanya said blandly.  
  
It was the first time Weiss had seen Schuldig in action against someone other than themselves. They knew he was fast. They knew how it felt to see the orange-haired blur streak towards them and hear that sneering nasal voice in their heads.  
  
Schuldig didn't even make it across the room. He collapsed in a boneless heap, whimpering.  
  
"Tash won't let you touch me," Tanya said coldly. Tash looked a little embarrassed.  
  
"You're not actually hurting," she told the groaning Schuldig apologetically, "you just think you are. It's chemical."  
  
"Pain is all chemicals," Farfarello stared at her. "The connections between my nerves and the areas of chemicals in my brain that tell me it is damaging me are all messed up. Pleasure is chemical. Happy, sad, angry. all chemicals. You are a chemist."  
  
"That was amazingly coherent for a nutter," Yohji drawled. He found himself lying on the floor with the couch on top of him. Aya and Omi had managed to leap clear.  
  
"You know nothing about us!" Nagi snapped. "Insane and stupid are completely different things, and Farf is perfectly capable of coherency for days at a time!"  
  
"Jeez, okay, gomen nasai, my dear Farfie-kun," Yohji snarled.  
  
"Drop the Katana," Tanya said suddenly in a commanding voice. "I'm not a telepath, Ran, but I can still read your intentions. The very air you breathe tells me everything you don't want to me to know." She frowned. "Right down to the fact that both Schuldig and Yohji own the same thong." She sighed.  
  
"I believe that the joining of Schwarz and Weiss is the beginning towards a more permanent link between Kritiker and SS. The New SS have a great deal to offer not only Kritiker, but other similar agencies across the world-"  
  
"Propaganda," Schuldig interrupted. "Leave it to the politicians, pet."  
  
Aya glowered at them. "We will never work with Schwarz," he spat. There was a chorus of agreement.  
  
"Why aren't you happy?" Tash suddenly demanded of Aya. "You took your revenge, your sister has come back to life. Why aren't you happy?"  
  
"He likes being like this?" Schuldig suggested. "Look, hon." Schuldig's breath caught in his throat. He eyes narrowed. And this was the only warning Tash got before he launched himself at her.  
  
She slammed a wave of pain into hi, but he didn't even flinch. Schuldig had slammed some shields up after the last attack; he wasn't going to be caught short again. She flooded him with emotion after emotion, but none had any effect. He slammed her bodily into the wall and yanked out his gun, holding it under her chin.  
  
"Shields!"  
  
Just as Schuldig was about to pull the trigger he went limp. His eyes glazed over. His jaw lost its usual smirk and went slack. His body rested bonelessly on Tash's.  
  
"What's happening what's he doing what's going on who are they why is he doing this hurt god oh Schuldig that bitch oh shit oh shit his shields."  
  
Crawford's eyes hardened. Tanya, who had been the one to yell 'shields', suddenly found herself in a worse position than Tash, who was still pinned to the wall. Crawford snatched a handful of material and pulled. She spun like a top, like a cartoon character.  
  
"No," she murmured. More material came away, more skin was exposed. Crawford kept pulling on the filmy threads, shredding the delicate fabrics. Nagi caught on and used his powers to strip the woman. The fabrics tore into thousands of tiny tatters, falling about the room like multicoloured snowflakes.  
  
Tanya wrapped her arms around herself, moaning. Information overloaded her senses. And, as a final torment, Farfarello hugged her. Bare flesh against bare flesh, too many deaths, too much destruction, too much pain, too much.  
  
She expired with a quiet sob. Blood began to run from her nose, mouth and eyes. Her heart had burst and her brain had haemorrhaged rather than try and make sense of the flood of raw data. Farfarello lapped at the thin trickles, cradling the ivory white body to his own.  
  
"She's dead oh shit oh Schuldig oh Kami what's going on she was hot it's a pity oh my god is he saying what we're thinking oh shit oh damn oh Schuldig where are you you're not in there she knocked you out oh Schuldig oh Schu have they killed him is mastermind dead what has happened oh Schuldig where are you." 


	22. Chapter 22, for Anria, who kindly pointe...

Part Twenty-Two  
  
* A/N: I did warn you, it gets worse. Lots of angst and tear jerking to come. Mwahahaha *  
  
Nagi lifted Schuldig's body away from Tash, who was sobbing against the wall. Schuldig was still babbling away to himself. It was all he seemed able to do.  
  
"Brad?" Nagi asked in a small voice as he concentrated on floating Schuldig up the steps.  
  
"No, he's not there. At all." Crawford's voice was flat, unemotional. Nagi started to cry.  
  
Omi stared at the younger boy, then, in front of all of his teammates, walked over to him and hugged him. Nagi leant into the embrace. Schuldig's body dipped sharply, and Nagi pulled away to concentrate on his task. He gave Omi an apologetic look. Omi's heart broke for the younger boy.  
  
Farfarello released Tanya walked over to steady Schuldig's body. If he hadn't been talking, he would have been tempted to term it 'Schuldig's corpse'. Brain-dead, to all effects.  
  
They settled Schuldig in the front seat of the car. Nagi and Farfarello sat together in the back. Nagi was still sobbing quietly, and Farfarello wrapped both arms around him. Farfarello rested his chin on the top of Nagi's head, a single tear trickling from his single eye. He was insane, not stupid, and Schuldig had been a good friend.  
  
Crawford sat poker straight in the driving seat, eyes on the road ahead, as they always were. Always ahead. Never the now. He pulled away from the Koneko. Always looking ahead. Never able to see what was right in front of him because he was looking past it.  
  
They were maybe half a mile down the road before Crawford pulled over. Resting his arms on the wheel, he buried his head in them. Nagi and Farfarello watched his shoulders bob as he cried. Mr Bradley Crawford gave into his grief on a public road in the middle of Tokyo were millions could see him crying like a small child.  
  
"It's my fault." Schuldig said suddenly. Nagi's stared at him. "I hurt him, I didn't listen, I let him go. If I'd listened, if I'd taken into account what he was saying, if I'd looked harder. he died thinking I hate him. I never told him otherwise..."  
  
"No," Farfarello told Crawford sharply. "He knew ye loved him he just couldn't understand why ye didn't." Crawford raised a bleary eye to stare at the Irishman. "Why ye didn't know ye loved him. Hell, it was obvious to the rest o' us, right, Nagi?" Nagi didn't reply. His world was falling apart. Schuldig was gone, the irrepressible, irresponsible, irritating Schuldig. Brad Crawford was crying. Cold, emotionless, detached, impassive Brad Crawford was sobbing like a baby in the front seat of his BMW. Nagi clung tighter to Farfarello. At this rate the Irishman would be a priest by next Saturday.  
  
Crawford rested his head on his arms, the occasional tear still slipping over damp cheeks. It was hard to take in. His heart throbbed I his chest, his stomach felt empty. There was a sudden, nasty feeling like he'd swallowed a very large slug. Guilt. Grief always seemed to be nine parts guilt. That and anger. How dare Schuldig leave him like this? Leave him when there was so much left to be said? So much left to be done? Tears threatened to overwhelm him again, but he was illegally parked and no policeman would accept that the babbling man in the seat next to him was to all effects dead.  
  
"We can't go back," he told the others hoarsely. "Killing the heads of SS twice is going to cause a lot of anger. The apartment won't be safe."  
  
"Tash is still out there. I don't. I don't understand why Schuldig went for her like that," Nagi admitted miserably.  
  
"That's up to us to work out and complete what he began," Farfarello said. Crawford nodded slowly. It would be something, perhaps, that Schuldig wouldn't have been lost in vain.  
  
He pulled away from the curb carefully. Schuldig twittered on relentlessly.  
  
"I forgot to buy - did I - stupid ki - what if he - oh shit - apples - burger or chips - need detergent - damn phone - idiot child - wish that brat - too slow old - have to - shut up - Oh Schu."  
  
"We need to get out of this city!" Nagi yelled over Schuldig's repartee. "Somewhere quiet!"  
  
"I know a cabin. It's quiet a long way," Crawford told the others. Once, in what seemed many lives ago, he had planned to take Schuldig there. A break alone together. Before he'd started to question their relationship. Before he'd started to question Tanya and Tash and their plans. Before Schuldig left them forever. Perhaps the three of them could hide out up there, there was plenty of food.  
  
".there's plenty of fuel, we can last." Crawford frowned and strengthened his shields. As they left Tokyo behind and the roads became less densely crowded more and more of Nagi and Farfarello were getting through. They were both upset as it was; they didn't need his own morbid train of thought basted out in a nasal German accent. No. The accent was gone. It was Schuldig's accent, but his mouth could make any number of sounds. Still his voice though.  
  
It was a long drive.  
  
* * *  
  
The Beamer struggled up the last of the track, which he grown considerably rougher since the last time Brad was there, over a decade ago. He coaxed the overstressed car over potholes and rubble until it rested in front of a sturdy looking western-style cottage.  
  
Crawford lifted Schuldig's body from the car and carried it up to the front door. Nagi and Farfarello followed silently. Crawford reached into his pocket and winced.  
  
"Keys," Schuldig blurted out.  
  
Nagi's eyes widened. It wasn't like Crawford to overlook something like that. He wrapped his arms around his slender body. It was cold, with a brisk wind blowing. Farfarello lent his own bodyheat to Nagi, holding the delicate child close to his chest.  
  
Crawford rested Schuldig against the front door and wandered around the small building. Eventually he came across a window a ground level. It was the entry to the pantry. He smashed it with his bare fist. Pain flared in his arm and blood ran from his fingers. It was comforting, in a way. He could still feel then. Not just the emotional numbness that had settled on his during the long drive. The numbness that came with years of practice repressing grief and hate and anything else that might get in the way of his job. But it had started long before Rosenkruez.  
  
Crawford pushed these thoughts from his mind. They were only springing up now because of where he was. His father's cabin. Useless, pointless thoughts. No help whatsoever.  
  
God he missed Schuldig. Schuldig would be able to help.  
  
Crawford leant against the rough wood of the building. They pantry had always bee n locked from the outside. And it would be cold in there anyway. Enough food to last them a month, provided they didn't die of exposure. Shelves and shelves of tins labelled in black marker pen, dried fruit in boxes and powdered milk in cartons.  
  
"Nagi?" he called. Nagi walked unsteadily around the building. His fingers had gone a worrying white, bordering on blue. Shock, exposure, hypothermia, emotional exhaustion. Brad felt a measure of guilt for what he was about to ask Nagi to do.  
  
"The door is locked on the other side. Can you unlock it?"  
  
"What sort of lock?" Nagi bit out as Crawford lifted him through the window.  
  
"There's a bolt, a sliding lock and a key hole. I'm sorry. At least you'll be out of the wind."  
  
Nagi curled into a foetal position against he heavy wooden door, fingers tracing the metal of the locks.  
  
"This will take a while," Nagi murmured. "It would be easier to blow the door off."  
  
"I'd rather not," Crawford told him. "If the door won't open by nightfall we may have to."  
  
"If I can't get it open by nightfall I'm not going to be able to by any method," Nagi warned. Crawford nodded sombrely.  
  
"Eat," he commanded, before walking back to join Farfarello and Schuldig at the front of the building.  
  
Farfarello was sitting in the car again, Schuldig lying across the back seat with his head in Farfarello's lap.  
  
"Didn't want him te get cold," Farfarello explained shortly.  
  
"It's Nagi I'm worried about," Crawford hinted. Farfarello climbed out of the car and obediently went to warm Nagi in the icy pantry.  
  
Crawford climbed into the backseat and lifted Schuldig's head onto his lap. He stroked the fan of orange hair. Schuldig was whispering now, only picking up Farfarello and Nagi. A few hours earlier, he'd have been almost shouting their thoughts. This worried Crawford. Schuldig's power seemed to be fading while Schuldig wasn't there. Once it was gone, Schuldig would be nothing but a vegetable.  
  
Crawford's back arched as a vision hit him. 


	23. Chapter 23

Part Twenty-Three  
  
'Scheisse! Why do I never think anything through? Hurt god, must hurt god. Help! What do I do now? Oh scheisse scheisse scheisse.  
  
'Poor Nagi, hated child, poor cold Nagi. Warm him up. Nagi hurts God, God clearly hates him. Mmm, blood. Does he think of nothing else? Damn Psychopath! Damned god obsessed Psychopath!'  
  
'Hey, be a little nicer to your host.'  
  
'You're aware of me in here?'  
  
'Aye, so make a little less racket, eh?'  
  
'I can't get out! I want to get back in my own body! No offense. Tell them! Tell them I can't get out.'  
  
'Ah, ye seemed to have made a bit of mistake, me poor lamb. I'm Jei.'  
  
'You're who? Oh schiesse. Oh gott-'  
  
'Do not take our Lord's name in vain.'  
  
'He's never done anything for me! I'm stuck in the head of a god-hating nutter, with his god-loving alter-ego with no way to get back into my own body! If he had any compassion do you think he'd have put me into this situation?'  
  
'Ye can't get back out the way ye came in? And after everything ye've done, I can't help but feel ye deserve this. Ye have broken every commandment, ye break every law. Ye are lucky God loves unconditionally, and he'll forgive ye if ye ask fer fergiveness.'  
  
'I ask for nothing! Look, I'm a telepath, and Farfarello, well, you, aren't. See my problem?'  
  
'Could that disillusioned lassie help ye?'  
  
'Yeah, if she wasn't bloody miles away! Wait, you knew?'  
  
'She just want people te be happy. I cen sympathise.'  
  
'Yeah. Poor you. Huh, does this mean Farf has multiple personalities?'  
  
'Oh no, I'm not really here. I'm a figment of his imagination, really. A name for all the emotions he buries and all the pain he refuses to feel. I'm everything he refuses to acknowledge, everything he was, everything he could have been.'  
  
'So you are Farfarello. So you could tell the others. Not overly impressed here, you know.'  
  
'I'm the repressed Farfarello! How can he tell the others what he can't e'en tell himself?'  
  
'I've been here too long already. That almost made sense. Look, you're his subconscious, partially, right? Don't correct me; I'm the ultimate psychologist. I put Freud to shame. Speaking of whom, let's try a little game here.'  
  
'Game? I don't think I'd like yer games.'  
  
'Sure you will. It's called 'Freudian slips'. You think real hard about letting on what's going on, and make Farf say what he's really thinking. Which is what you're really thinking.'  
  
'I can't see this working, friend. Aye, maybe I could get 'im te say stuff about God, or pain, but why would he repress stuff about ye? Ye're completely separate. Ye're not any part o' him to repress, aye?'  
  
'So, I'll help. All we have to do is get him to convince Brad and Nagi to fetch Tash.  
  
'You're right, this isn't going to work, is it?'  
  
'Aye, but it's the only plan we've got. I like ye, Farf likes ye, and we want ye te be okay.'  
  
'I know.'  
  
* * *  
  
'Fuck, he's asleep.'  
  
'Sorry. Please don't swear.'  
  
'What? Oh, yeah ,sorry. Gott, I musta have been here way too long to be apologising to you! To a repressed subconscious.'  
  
'Please don't take the Lord's name in vain.'  
  
'Shut the fuck up. I can see why Farf keeps you back here. You whine!'  
  
'I'm sorry. Perhaps we can implement your plan when he wakes up?'  
  
'Honestly, that could be too late. Hell, it's probably too late as it is, but I have to try. Heh, I know. If you're part of his subconscious, you must have access to his dreams, right? And I'm a master at playing with dreams.'  
  
The dreamscape shimmered, and Schuldig appeared. Farfarello regarded him with a mild surprise. Schuldig's surprise was considerably less mild.  
  
"Where's your eye patch?"  
  
"I have two eyes here. It's my dream, I can have what I like."  
  
Schuldig stared around. A Catholic church. Outside, rioting could be heard. Shouts in a musical language Schuldig didn't understand a word of filtered through ornate windows. Then some in English. Shots ringing out. An explosion.  
  
"Ireland," Schuldig murmured.  
  
"It wasn't a happy place to grow up," Farfarello admitted. "This is an almost exclusively protestant area."  
  
"And you were catholic?" Farfarello nodded. His hair was a flaming orange, and his eyes had more green in than Schuldig was used to. He looked younger. He looked like the Farfarello Schuldig had met at Rosenkruez, chained up in a padded cell. He even had freckles. "Imagine there's no religion. Imagine all the people, living in peace," Schuldig murmured. Imagine, by John Lennon, in case you were wondering  
  
"I always liked that song. It weren't until I left Ireland I noticed it's Communist roots. I liked it e'en better then."  
  
"Yeah." This wasn't going how Schuldig had expected it to. Who'd have thought Farfarello had such a good grip on what was going on inside his own head? Outwardly insane, inwardly calm. In some ways, it was much better than the rest of the world, the so called 'sane'.  
  
"I'll miss ye," Farfarello offered. Or was it Jei? "Bradley's barely holdin' it tog'ther. Nagi's not stopped weeping."  
  
"I know. I can see. Farf, I'm still here." No, this was coming out all wrong, like he was a concerned spirit. "I'm in you!"  
  
"Ye're in all o' us," Farfarello offered.  
  
"Yes. Nein! I'm in you! I'm in your head, Farf. When he knocked down the shields they created at Rosenkruez, I fled before I was hit too hard. I took refuge in your head. You have to tell the others I'm not dead, but if something isn't done soon I will be."  
  
"What sorta something?" Farfarello settled himself on a pew and started eating the sacred wafers off of a silver plate that had pretty much appeared out of nowhere. He offered Schuldig the wine. Even Schuldig found that a bit distasteful, though it didn't stop him from downing the cup.  
  
"Tash. Fetch her. She ought to be able to create some sort of conduit."  
  
"Ye want her? After all she's done?" Farfarello laughed incredulously. "And ye thought I was loco!"  
  
"Yeah, I guess. But she's the only active mental anywhere near here. We're not going to reach the Sahara or Iceland before I become a vegetable."  
  
"Why either o' those?"  
  
"The other telepaths. Big empty places. Just, fetch Tash. Do what you have to to make her open my mind and put me back."  
  
"Ye want ye shields put back up first?"  
  
"Nah, I can deal with that, as long as we stay out here."  
  
"Okay, I can do that."  
  
They sat in silence for a bit, Farfarello chewing on the wafers and Schuldig sipping from the refilling cup. There was the sound of tanks outside.  
  
"Sounds pretty bad out there," Schuldig observed.  
  
"Aye. Innocents dying, soldiers mowing down people with automatic weapons, car bombs, IRA vigilantes, streets awash with blood."  
  
"Wanna go watch?"  
  
"Aye!"  
  
*A/N: My Irish history is a bit wobbly, but I remember a time within my lifetime when it was really bad in Ireland. With a bit of shoehorning, I've made that Farfarello's childhood. No, I haven't seen the WK episode with Ruth, but that doesn't place it anywhere more detailed than Ireland, does it? I hope I haven't offended anyone with my depiction of Ireland here, or Schuldig and Farf's treatment of the Holy Sacrament. Honestly, I'm not Catholic, so I don't actually have the faintest idea what I'm talking about. * 


	24. Chapter 24

Part Twenty-Four  
  
Nagi woke, shivering. Farfarello was gone. He blinked dazedly around the small room he was in. Piled with blankets, he struggled to sit up. Oh yes, the door. The locks. It seemed absurdly simple now he thought about it. He stared at the keyhole, and blasted it out of the door. The other locks opened, and the door creaked outwards.  
  
Nagi stood up shakily. His legs were numb and his back hurt. Farfarello made a good hot water bottle, but he seemed to have wandered off. Probably went to use the facilities. Nagi grimaced. There were no 'facilities', and right now he really wished there were. He couldn't bear the idea of going in the woods. Too 'exposed'.  
  
Nagi pushed open the door and started to explore the small cabin, intending to go and report his success just as soon as he found a bathroom. Right, there. Wait, locked? How could it be locked? Some had to be inside to have locked it.  
  
Deciding his need was greater than mere privacy, and they could always hang a sign on the door or something, Nagi blew the lock off. The door swung open. Sitting on the toilet was a decomposing man. Suddenly the woods seemed much more appealing.  
  
  
  
Crawford stared at the sky. Schuldig's leaden weight acted as a blanket against the pre-dawn chill, but was still extremely uncomfortable. He could hear the car revving in the distance. If he ever saw Farfarello again, he was going to kill him for every scratch on that car.  
  
Brad sat up, dislodging the inert Schuldig. Suddenly the German let out a piercing shriek. Running his fingers through the orange hair and murmuring soothing words, despite being perfectly aware Schuldig couldn't feel them or hear him and wasn't even the one really screaming, Brad clambered to his feet. He kissed Schuldig's clammy forehead and was starting to make his way around the cottage when the front door burst open.  
  
"There's a dead guy in the bathroom!" Nagi yelped. Crawford winced.  
  
"Leave him. Lock the door." Brad picked up Schuldig's body and carried it inside. He started to lay a fire.  
  
"I. I can't. I blew the lock off." Brad frowned. "Do you know who it is?"  
  
"Father. father I didn't mean to. Shouldn't have left you here, really. Unprofessional. But it wasn't my profession, then. Schuldig? Oh damn."  
  
"He's your father?" Nagi jigged from one foot to the other.  
  
"You need to use the facilities?" Brad repressed a smile. Nagi blushed and nodded. "There's another toilet outside, thought it will probably stink to high heaven."  
  
"Outside?" Nagi frowned in perplexity.  
  
"Yes. Believe it or not, not so long ago most toilets were." Crawford gave him a wry grin. "You're making me feel old," he warned. Nagi managed a small smile back, and darted outside.  
  
Crawford congratulated himself on deterring Nagi's question. Well, it had been a rhetorical question anyway, but that was something he didn't want to have to explain. Caressing Schuldig's face he started to build up the fire and get a warm blaze going. Trusting to luck, he nipped to the bathroom door and blocked the hole Nagi had made. After a short period of consideration, he pulled a large armoire in front of the 'dread portal'.  
  
Nagi sat on one side of Schuldig and Crawford the other. Schuldig chatted away, but they both tuned him out. Nagi had fetched some tinned sausages from the pantry and they started to cook them on skewers together. Crawford repressed the familiarly painful memories that this activity brought up.  
  
"Where's Farfarello?" Nagi asked eventually, taking a bite from a blackened sausage without taking it off of the skewer.  
  
"He took the car and left."  
  
"Can he drive?"  
  
"I don't think so. He said Schuldig had told him to fetch Tash or go to Iceland."  
  
Nagi frowned. "You don't think."  
  
"No, I don't, and you shouldn't either. Schuldig is gone. We can't afford to hope." Crawford turned away from Nagi, his chest constricting. He so desperately wanted to hope, so desperately wanted to believe Schuldig really had told Farfarello to go back to Tokyo. But it couldn't be. If Schuldig were going to communicate with any of them, it would be Brad, wouldn't it? His lover. His love.  
  
"So why are we keeping his body alive?" Nagi asked meekly.  
  
Crawford stared at the blank face and limp body. "I don't know," he admitted. Nagi flinched, unnoticed by the self absorbed American. "I. I don't think I could let go, just yet. You understand?"  
  
"Yes," Nagi said miserably. Crawford gave him a sharp glance. Of course, he had always been the one with the answers, the one who did know.  
  
"Nagi?" Crawford chewed his lip. This was almost certainly a bad idea, but he needed to discuss it with a third party. Well, a second party, really.  
  
"Uh-huh?"  
  
"I had a vision. Last night." Nagi's lip trembled. There was no way this could be good, not by the way Crawford was considering his words sp intensely. "We have to finish what Schuldig started. We have to kill Tash."  
  
"Why? Why did Schuldig try to kill her in the first place?"  
  
"Farfarello's going to bring her here. She's going to make us feel better, make the grief go away, the pain. We. we can't let her do that. I don't understand why." He stared miserably at Schuldig's pliable body, currently draped over his lap. He looked almost alive, in the dancing firelight. Just Schuldig demanding more physical contact than most people were comfortable with, invading his personal space, being too obvious and too oblivious. Just being the person Brad found himself loving more each day, death not- with-standing.  
  
"It would dishonour his memory," Nagi told Brad. "It would damage us emotionally, not coping with the loss as we're supposed to naturally."  
  
"She wants to help, she wants the world to be happy," Brad said softly. "She wants to take away the choice."  
  
"You don't think." Nagi stuttered.  
  
"You have to stop saying that, or at least complete the question," Brad observed. "Schuldig was always very much the advocate of free-will, so I can see why this would rankle."  
  
".Though I didn't think he would die for it. I guess I didn't know him as well as I liked to think I did..."  
  
Brad sighed and stroked Schuldig's hair. It was silky fine, though in need of a wash, and spread out like a delicate see creature's tentacles. A Sea Anemone. See an enemy, sea anemone? You saw one where the rest of us didn't. He blinked as he felt Nagi press against him, demanding a comforting physical presence. He wrapped an arm around the usual touch- phobic boy, unable to offer more comfort than that. He needed someone to comfort him first.  
  
* * *  
  
Farfarello pulled over for the policeman. He tapped the steering wheel as he'd seen Brad do in a similar situation. He wondered if he ought to be swearing and speeding away like Schuldig, the other driver in Schwarz.  
  
"License, please," the cop leaned next to the open window.  
  
"Don't 'ave one."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Never learnt te drive. How am I doing?"  
  
"Get out here-"  
  
Farfarello yanked the officer through the open window and wound it up. There was a sickening squelchy crunch as the man's neck broke. Farfarello almost forgot to wind it down again before driving off. What did Schuldig say here? Oh yes: "Auf Weidersein (sp?), weibsstuck!" He waved a finger at the corpse. It was the wrong finger, but the message was still pretty obvious.  
  
* * *  
  
Five policemen, seventeen pedestrian, four motorcyclists, two car drivers, a lorry driver and several lampposts later Farfarello pulled up in front of the Koneko. Well, pushed up in front of the Koneko. Perhaps a taxi back to the cabin, yes?  
  
Aya opened the door and smiled. It almost faltered when he was Farfarello, but barely. Behind him Omi was grinning while working the cash register and Ken was humming while he mopped the floor. Yohji wandered over to see who it was, and slid his arm around Aya's waist.  
  
"Well, hi there, Farf! Great to see you!" Yohji pumped his hand vigorously.  
  
"Yes, it's really wonderful. Come on in, we were about to close, but you're welcome to stay." Aya beamed at the Irishman.  
  
Farfarello was ushered into the shop. Ken gave him a hug and Omi offered him some flowers. Farfarello had faced many things in his life, done many things, but he had no idea how to react to this. Aya and Yohji were kissing tenderly while Ken flirted with Farfarello.  
  
"I, um, I want to see Tash. Bring me Tash," Farfarello stuttered.  
  
"Sure thing! Nothing would please us more!" The boys chorused and rushed to fetch they're new friend. Manx appeared and ruffled Farfarello's hair.  
  
"It's great to see you. It's so nice when our enemies drop in, you know? Kritiker love you guys."  
  
"Really?" Farfarello emitted a strangled gulp.  
  
"Oh yes," Birman purred. She rubbed Farfarello's arm. "We're so happy to see you, you know. Are you going to stay? It would be absolutely wonderful if you did."  
  
Inside Farfarello's head, Schuldig was in fits of laughter. 


	25. Chapter 25

Part Twenty-Five  
  
"Ye did this?" Farfarello demanded.  
  
"Emotional openness is very important," Tash insisted, gesturing towards Aya and Yohji, who were murmuring sweet nothings to each other.  
  
"They're assassins. Emotional openness will be t'e death o' 'em! They kill for a living. How do ye imagine they feel?"  
  
"Well, of course, I'm not encouraging that openness. Don't they deserve to be happy?"  
  
"-"  
  
Farfarello stared at her. Did she honestly believe? Yes, she honestly thought what she was doing was right. Farfarello felt an odd sort of pride at having the strongest grip on his sanity out of every one in the room. It was an extremely unusual feeling. No, the usually repressed inner voice hissed, they don't deserve to be happy. They have to ask God for forgiveness- Farfarello cut off the voice, but he recognised its point.  
  
"Ye're coming wi' me," he told her gruffly.  
  
"I don't want to," Tash told him blandly.  
  
"Need ye te put Schuldig back together agen."  
  
"No." There was an odd sound. Farfarello recognised it as silence. The Weiss boys and girls (i.e. Manx and Birman) were staring at him.  
  
"Never forgive the bad ones," Omi growled.  
  
"Hunt the tomorrow of the dark beasts," Manx muttered.  
  
Farfarello stared around. "Ye've made them angry, ha'n't ye? Ye've filled them wi' hate."  
  
"Pretty much. Don't worry, once you're dead they'll be happy again."  
  
"I won't," Farfarello objected.  
  
"True, but I don't really like you." Tash smiled. "Sic 'im, boys" she murmured in English. Farfarello glowered at her. Aya raised his Katana, Yohji coiled his wire around his hands and pulled it taught, Ken's bugnuks slid out and Omi raised his crossbow to site down it.  
  
Farfarello considered his options, grabbed Tash bodily and jumped through the shop's front window. She screamed and kicked but he kept running, pursued by Weiss. If Schuldig's life hadn't been at stake he'd have slaughtered the lot of them, but he knew time was running out. He out ran them quickly, and without Tash's emotional encouragement they were more than willing to give up. They had a lot to sort through, especially Aya and Yohji.  
  
Farfarello slowed down. Tash was hanging over his shoulder, kicking his chest and punching his back. He barely registered it. Passers by stared at him in horror, but he barely registered them either. Now, Crawford's BMW wasn't going anywhere in a hurry, but there was a garage here, and along with two motorbikes there were two cars. After a brief moment's consideration, Farfarello hopped into the Porsche. If he drove it like he drove the BMW its 'pure' white paint would soon be 'dirty'.  
  
Farfarello hotwired the car as a grizzled Irishman had once shown him how to do and dumped Tash in the passenger seat. She clawed at him and tried to push her way back out of the car, but Farfarello hit her with a car jack. She went limp. After checking he hadn't killed her, Farfarello climbed into the driver's seat and after a few tries managed to find first gear and hit the accelerator at the same time.  
  
He realised the garage door was shut. Oh well.  
  
* * *  
  
Nagi was asleep, and dreaming of Omi. Crawford knew this because both Nagi and Schuldig were calling Omi's name from time to time. Crawford watched the fire and wished he could sleep as well, but he didn't want to dream of Schuldig any more. His loss kept echoing round and round in his head, replaying and repeating ever time Crawford stopped concentrating. He desperately wanted Tash to come, to put a stop to this.  
  
He stared at Schuldig. No. Schuldig had died trying to kill Tash. As soon as Farfarello brought her here, he would shoot her, finish what Schuldig had begun. It was only right. He watched a tear land on Schuldig's face, and realised he was crying again. You'd think a man would run out of tears after a while, but he'd been sobbing silently on and off for more than six hours now. He hugged the inert body of his chest and rocked back and forth.  
  
He was falling apart. He knew it. Nagi knew it. Farfarello knew it. Schwarz was supposed to have died when the Ancients did, but it survived. Now it was dying. It died with its members, and its members die with it. How could he have thought that it would have been better without Schuldig? He bowed his head and screwed his eyes up, trying to shut out the painful truth.  
  
Not good with the truth, are you? A voice from the past hissed. Brad shot a fearful look towards the hidden bathroom door. Coming here had been a huge mistake. Can't cope with being a failure, a freak, not good enough. You weren't good enough for me when I was alive, and you weren't good enough to stop me from dying.  
  
Shut up! Brad screamed within his own head. Father, shut up! I was a good son! I did well! I excelled, but I was never good enough for you. Ever. Bitterness swallowed him whole. Never good enough. Not for his father, not for SS, not for Schwarz. No matter how well he did, no matter how far he outstripped his peers, he wasn't good enough to keep bad things from happening to people he cared about. Not good enough. Not strong enough. Not powerful enough.  
  
".Not smart enough. Not foresighted enough. Not caring enough. Not there enough."  
  
"Shh," Crawford murmured, cradling Schuldig's unresponsive body. "Shh," he said to himself. He was good enough. There were just some things you couldn't prevent no matter how hard you tried.  
  
"I owe you a burial," he told the bathroom door. "Not something I relish doing now, I must admit." Carefully depositing Schuldig on the floor and checking the fire, he walked to the bathroom. Heaving the armoire out of the way he entered.  
  
It was always cold up here, Brad remembered. That's why there was still flesh clinging to a ten year old body. That's why part of one eyeball still gleamed in an otherwise empty socket. That's why shreds of hair hung lankly over a dripping face. No, Crawford wasn't looking forward to this.  
  
Steeling himself, he lifted the corpse from its decade long position. The head fell off. Crawford dropped the body and leant against the wall. His stomach rolled. He dealt with thousands of corpses since the day he saw his first, that is, this one, but none so old. Suddenly he wanted to quit. He didn't want to do this any more, this random killing, this lawless existence.  
  
He stood up straight again and fetched a black plastic bag from the storeroom. Grimacing, he stuffed the corpse bit by bit into the bag. He hauled it out of the bathroom and through the front door. Liquid seeped out of a small tear in the bottom, leaving a noxious trail across the cabin floor and out into the woods.  
  
Brad stared up the mountain. Well. It would be a good gesture. It would be fitting. It would be bloody hard work and he'd never really liked the man, for all that he was his father. Right. Brad fetched a shovel, wandered a short distance into the woods, and started digging. After about an hour he had a hole deep enough to serve as a grave.  
  
He walked back to the cottage and collected the bag. Emptying it over the hole he wondered if he should say a few words. "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust," he whispered. "I'm only burying you because I must," he spat. It took considerably less time to fill in the grave and he stamped the earth flat with an air of finality.  
  
Taking out a penknife, given to him by the man now six feet below him, he carved into a tree: "Bradley Crawford, Senior. A demanding husband and dissatisfied father. May he rest in the peace he never gave those who tried to loved him." It was bitter and to the point. It was all he could do to not write 'may he rest in pieces', but the dark humour was a little too morbid with a much dearer man to him lying inside. He shied away from the thought that soon enough he might have to do this for Schuldig. 


	26. Chapter 26

Part Twenty-Six  
  
A/N: Okay, five parts in one day. Hey, I may finish this tonight! I should be so lucky.   
  
Nagi woke up to the sound of a car dying outside. Crawford was nowhere to be seen, but the bathroom door had been unlocked and there was a trail of something unpleasant leading outside. He climbed unsteadily to his feet.  
  
Having checked on Schuldig, who chattered on about checking on Schuldig, Nagi walked to the already open front door and peered out. A white Porsche, well, what used to be a white Porsche but could probably be better classified as a brown Mini by now, mounted the drive triumphantly. One of the occupants was beating against the window.  
  
Crawford stepped out of the trees and cursed himself for not having his revolver. If this was what Farfarello had managed to do to Fujimiya's car, heaven knows what state his own must be in, and where it actually was.  
  
Farfarello kicked the door open and it fell to the ground with a crumpled thud. He clambered out, a wide grin splitting his face in two. There was a muffled shriek as he tried to extract the car's other occupant. Crawford's frown deepened. Tash. Now he really wished he had his revolver. But it was in his car. Which was somewhere in Tokyo, probably outside the Koneko, all things considered.  
  
Nagi saw the look on his boss's face and gave a reassuring wave. Crawford gave a grim smile as Nagi moved his gun back and forth. Nagi moved as though to throw it, and Crawford nodded. The killing metal spun gracefully through the air to land squarely in Crawford's palm. As Farfarello dragged the kicking and screaming telempath from the vehicle Crawford shot her squarely in the back. She went limp.  
  
* * *  
  
'Noooo! He can't. idiot! I curse you, Bradley Crawford! Stupid, stupid man!'  
  
'Calm, my friend-'  
  
'Fuck off! You're supposed to be here, I'm not.'  
  
I could be so cruel, and leave it here, ne? But that would be an incredibly short chapter, and the suspense is killing me, so I can't imagine what it's doing to any readers who've stuck with me this far.   
  
* * *  
  
Farfarello slapped Tash's face. It rolled to one side, pale and ghostly. Blood poured from the bullet wound in her back and began to see from her mouth and nose. Crawford had hit her lung, that was for certain.  
  
"Ye killed her!" Farfarello shrieked indignantly.  
  
"I had to. There's no knowing what she would have done to us," Crawford justified.  
  
"Aye, like save Schuldig?" Farfarello snapped. He hadn't sat and listened to the bint whine for the last few hours solely for the pleasure of burying her corpse.  
  
Crawford paled. "What?" Farfarello saw just how badly everything was affecting their leader. His skin was like dry parchment, hanging off of his face, and dark circles defined bloodshot eyes. He was twenty-seven, but right now he looked about seventy-seven. Grief had taken its toll on the older man, and the cracks were beginning to show.  
  
Farfarello considered his next words carefully. They were likely to be his last, it seemed. "Schuldig left his head, when she knocked his shields down. But he can't get back in without help, because it's his body that's telepathic, not mine."  
  
"Yours?" Crawford sank to the ground and began to search for a pulse on the body. The blood flow had already stopped, he noted with anguish.  
  
"Aye. I mean, there are bits of my mind I don't go into, so I guess it made sense. He told me, ye see, in a dream."  
  
"A dream?" Nagi crossed his legs and joined the bizarre little circle.  
  
"Aye."  
  
"It could just have been a dream," Crawford suggested gently. Please, let it just have been a dream, he begged miserably.  
  
"Nae. It were Schuldig. She woulda been a conduit, see, twix him and his body. I can't find Schuldig meself, but he's lurking there somewhere," Farfarello added hastily.  
  
Crawford didn't want to cry again in front of what remained of his team. Nagi was emotionally fragile as it was, and Farfarello seemed to have slipped further into his delusional insanity. He had to be the strong one. Part of him raged against this, raged against he fact he had to be the support, not the supported, when it was he who was suffering the most. Of course, all those lost in grief believe themselves to be the most in pain, and Nagi and Farfarello were equally distraught in their own way.  
  
As Crawford stared at the body, he felt a weight lift from his heart. So there was no hope any more. It was easier, in many ways, not to hope, not to believe. He could go back to being emotionless, stoic Crawford-san who didn't give a damn about who lived or died. Schuldig was gone. Schuldig, who had always been the one to demand such emotions from him anyway. Schuldig, whose sheer ability to irritate had forced down Crawford's barriers and made him a less efficient killer for it. Schuldig had always interfered in the job, really.  
  
Yes, Crawford would miss him, but perhaps it was better this way. They could keep going, they could survive and thrive without him. And Schuldig would still be able to watch.  
  
Nagi chewed his lip. Schuldig was dead. Schuldig, who had been a good friend from time to time, but a worse enemy. No need to keep those secrets so close anymore, at least, there wouldn't be once Schuldig's body finally admitted the truth the rest of them had accepted and died. And, well, he'd always been a little scared of Schuldig. Schuldig who called him 'Bishounen' and made jokes about how desirable he was. Schuldig who would come home drunk and try to grope him, until Nagi locked himself in his room and prayed for Crawford to deal with him. Schuldig had never known when to stop, never known restraint. He'd jeopardised them so many times.  
  
Yes, he missed him terribly, but there was a little relief, and he didn't feel guilty for admitting that. Not like he had when his mother died, when he ran away from home and wished his father would suffer and burn and just die! Yes, it would be okay without Schuldig. He still had Crawford, he still had Farfarello.  
  
Farfarello would have felt a weight lift from his heart, but the contented looks on his teammates' faces made him extremely suspicious. His mind worked differently, he wasn't connected to all the same chemicals as every one else, and he honestly wasn't stupid.  
  
"She ain't dead," he declared. "She's invulnerable, ye blithe fools."  
  
Yeah, I'd forgotten that too! Thought I'd written myself into a corner for a bit there. Hehe, did I fool anyone else? 


	27. Chapter 27, for Kat, who told me exactly...

Part Twenty- Seven  
  
Yay, all you people saying nice stuff and making me happy! Especially the author comment, thanks, Kat. I'm glad I got you all hooked, Mwahaha, by not sticking everything up at once now (though, admittedly, I didn't have everything to put up at once when I started updating this). I'll warn you now, the ending gets really wordy. I was running out of chapters and there's too much to explain. I'm not particularly happy with it, so you may not see the same version as the one that'll probably end up on mediaminer.org (poor people there get unchecked version, though more up to date). But yay, thanks for all the wonderful comments! Just read my comment in amongst the reviews. See, that's what happens when I post stuff without reading it through. Evil typos. Another good reason for not updating as soon as I write stuff. ^_^   
  
"Damn," the girl muttered. She sat up and stared at them.  
  
Crawford's shame was unending. He'd not noticed that his sudden, incongruous acceptance of Schuldig's death, his own pleasure that it was over with, wasn't real? He'd accepted it and been ready to move on, whistling some happy little tune, probably about Lumberjacks? He felt sick inside. Then he felt the guilt lift a little.  
  
"No. Stop that." The murderous look on his face startled Tash, and the chemical alterations settled back into their usual patterns. "You don't get it, do you? You can't meddle with people like that."  
  
"You do it all this time!" She protested. "Well, Schuldig did. Meddled with what people thought, what they dreamed, what they did. How is what I'm doing any different? At least I'm trying to help."  
  
"It's not."  
  
"What?"  
  
"It's not any different. Tash, we aren't nice people. We don't do nice things. I've seen Schuldig make someone walk off a cliff before, and he enjoyed it. What you're doing is no different to hat we do. We just admit it's wrong."  
  
"Oh." Tash stared down. "That's not going to make me stop, you know. You're killers, you are malevolent. I'm benevolent."  
  
"Like hell," Nagi snarled. "Do you have any idea what you've done? I know what it's like to suffer the sheer guilt of being glad someone society expects you to love is dead. And I liked Schuldig, dammit. I don't want to be happy he's gone." She felt a bone pop in her arm.  
  
"Daft bint," Farfarello muttered, and slapped her across the back of the head.  
  
"I was trying to help," she growled.  
  
"So help. Put Schuldig back in his bloody body!" Farfarello absentmindedly started rubbing the skin at his elbow. Trickle of blood promptly appeared, and when he flexed the arm a sliver of silver poked through the now constant rivulet. He dipped his fingers into the wound and drew out a razor blade. Even his teammates were a little shocked.  
  
"No wonder we couldn't get you through customs without setting that damned machine off," Nagi murmured.  
  
Farfarello held the blade up to her throat. "That which does not kill us makes us strong," he told her. "How strong do ye wanna be, pet?"  
  
"I can turn the pain off," she told him bravely.  
  
"Forever?"  
  
Nagi stared at her. "You can't, you know," he told her. "You can alter our feelings, alter your own, or put up your shields. Since we're all pretty good at shielding, the first's out, and you won't be able to alter your own feelings with your shields up."  
  
There was a pause. "Shit," she said faintly. Nagi's face curved in a predatory grin.  
  
"Is it true? About Schuldig?" Tash shrugged. "You don't know?"  
  
"I know he's not in his own body," she told them, "I guess he could be in Farfarello's. We'd have to knock him out. I could tell when he's emotionally quiet, Schuldig has a pretty distinct emotional signature of his own, but if Farfarello entered the dream cycle it would fuck it all up again."  
  
"Wow," Farfarello emitted wryly, "a real cuss word from the li'l lassie." She glowered at him. He pressed the knife deeper.  
  
"How would you get him back?" Crawford asked softly. The other's turned to look at the previously silent man.  
  
"I don't know."  
  
The group fell silent. Inside, Schuldig's body was equally quiet. Crawford would have liked to attribute that to the high levels of shielding, but he knew that Schuldig's life force was fading fast without a personality to sustain it.  
  
"Ye're an active men'al," Farfarello began hesitantly, "Right?"  
  
"Yes," she said quietly.  
  
"So, ye can pick stuff up from people, and force stuff onto people?"  
  
"You could put it like that. Don't think I don't see where you're going with this, Jei, but I wouldn't know where to begin."  
  
"So, I'm out for the count, right? That just leaves Schu. Ye pick up Schu's signature. Could ye, I dunno, copy that signature? Force it onto Schuldig's body?"  
  
"It wouldn't be Schuldig. I would have to actively maintain the signature. And it would just be emotional."  
  
"Schuldig could just be emotional for most of the time," Farfarello grinned. Nagi flinched. How can Farfarello be so blasé? he wailed internally.  
  
"He's coping, Nagi, that's what people do. He's remembering the good things."  
  
"Tash?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"That was a thought, not an emotion. And my shielding is pretty high. Schuldig, perhaps, could have seen through it, but."  
  
There was silence.  
  
"Tash?" Crawford coughed politely.  
  
"Uh-huh?"  
  
"Anything you'd like to tell us?"  
  
"Not really."  
  
"Anything you're going to tell us regardless of whether you'd like to or not?" Farfarello pushed the knife in deeper, to emphasise the sharp edge to Crawford's tone.  
  
".I picked it up they mustn't know I can't believe I made that mistake I absorb oh shit oh shit that's Schu in there isn't it oh shit I'll have to kill them all-"  
  
"Not an option, bairn," Farfarello traced the knife down her chest. "We can't kill ye, but we know how te make ye scream," he promised. He licked the trail of blood with his tongue before it healed over.  
  
"I think it's time to take you inside, ne?" Nagi lifted her easily, and her screams went unregarded as she was floated into the cabin's main room and trussed up in Farfarello's spare straightjacket. She glowered at them through a facemask not dissimilar to Hannibal's by the time they were done.  
  
"So, this is Schuldig's body. In there is Schuldig's mind. Now what?"  
  
"You think I'm going to tell you?"  
  
"You think we weren't serious? Nagi?" There was an audible crack. She whimpered. "Do you know how many bones an adult human has? Over three hundred. That will be one a minute until you co-operate. And, of course, with your accelerated healing, which I now am extremely suspicious about, we could keep going indefinitely."  
  
"Suspicious?" Nagi raised an eyebrow.  
  
"She picked up telepathy from Schuldig. Somehow I don't think the healing is innate either. Nor, in fact, is the telempathy."  
  
"It's my talent," she sighed. "I absorb. I knock the person from their body and their power becomes one of my own. Technically, I'm a possessor, but I can't leave my body without killing it." She smiled to herself behind the mask. Schuldig's body trembled slightly, but said nothing. "I'll co- operate," she offered.  
  
"Good."  
  
"We need to knock Farfarello out. Bordering on coma out."  
  
"That's easy," Nagi scoffed. "He does that to himself all the time." Tash's eyebrows raised.  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Then what?"  
  
"I guess I'll locate Schuldig. I ought to be able to oust him from Farfarello's body relatively easily. The question then is getting him back into his body."  
  
"It's open," Crawford pointed out. "It's been doing nothing but receive since he left it."  
  
"Yes, but Schuldig will have no sense of time or space. He may not know where his body is."  
  
"He will," Crawford stated confidently. Now he had something to do, something to take charge of, he was feeling better. He was in charge, he was Bradley Crawford, he was the head of Schwarz, he was a ruthless leader who made what he wanted to happen happen.  
  
Nagi looked a little disappointed. "I was expecting something a little more, well, a little more poetic."  
  
"Romantic, you mean," Tash grinned. "Yeah, it should all be heartfelt kisses and pledges of true love, but it ain't. Nothing Crawford can do will help in the slightest. Really, it's up to Schuldig."  
  
"Nothing?" Crawford smirked. Raising the lock Nagi had blown from the bathroom door, he clubbed Farfarello. "I seem to be helping."  
  
Tash bit her lip. "You know, I had wanted a little more time to prepare. For a start, it would help if Farfarello and Schuldig were touching. Can we wait for him to come around and do it again?"  
  
"We don't have that time. This is our one shot," Crawford told her sombrely. Suddenly, Tash was glad she'd never absorbed any pre-cognition. 


	28. Chapter 28, sooo close to the end now! Y...

Chapter Twenty-Eight  
  
'It's her, it's her. That bitch, those are my powers. Bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch.'  
  
'Who?'  
  
'Me. Um, who are you?'  
  
'That's just Farfarello's repressed subconscious. You can call it Jei, if you want. Get out, bitch.'  
  
'Here to help. Really, it's you who has to get out. Heh, I crack myself up.'  
  
'Yeah, I'm rolling around back here. So funny I wish I had my own mouth to laugh with. Get the point?'  
  
'Sarcasm, so rude. Um, is there anything we can do about Jei?'  
  
'God put me here, and so I will stay as God ordained it. Trust in him and ye shall be rewarded.'  
  
'Okay. Who's God?'  
  
'I guess being brought up in a test tube didn't give you much of a theological background. Let 'im be.'  
  
'Okay, I'm withdrawing. This will be quite rough on both of you, I think, and anyone else in there.'  
  
'So very droll.'  
  
* * *  
  
Farfarello's body twitched. The only sound was Schuldig's body, muttering softly to itself.  
  
". has it worked will it work it hasn't worked have a little faith will they kill me if it doesn't work has it wor-"  
  
Silence reigned. It reigned so long Queen Victoria would have been impressed.  
  
"Is he."  
  
Tash's head lolled forewards. If it weren't for the chains she'd have collapsed to the floor.  
  
"Knock it off," Crawford snarled. "Has it worked?"  
  
Tash slowly raised her head. "I actually blacked out," she complained indignantly. "I-"  
  
"Not 'I'," Crawford growled, "'he'."  
  
"What? Oh, yes. Well, he is back in there, but don't expect too much. He's likely to be out for weeks, months, maybe years. Comatose. His body has to adapt to his presence again, and it was a long time he was gone, relatively speaking. His body was beginning to die, he mind was beginning to let go. In all honesty, his recovery time-"  
  
"-is pretty quick. Ask Crawford," Schuldig leered.  
  
Silence flooded the room again. It was eventually broken by an overjoyed squeal as Nagi flung himself on top of Schuldig.  
  
"Missed you too, chibi," Schuldig murmured, looking embarrassed by all the attention. Nagi hugged him tight.  
  
"I feel so awful," Nagi murmured into Schuldig's neck.  
  
"Why?" Schuldig stared at him.  
  
Nagi didn't answer, only hugging the older man closer. "I. I love you, I mean, not the way Crawford loves you, but I missed you like hell and I'm so glad you're okay."  
  
"Like Crawford loves me." Schuldig said to himself. He'd been avoiding Crawford's eyes, barely looking at him.  
  
"Yes," Crawford said simply. He sat next to Schuldig on the rug. Nagi disentangled himself tactfully and moved to rouse Farfarello while Crawford and Schuldig sat and engaged in meaningful looks for several minutes. Okay, while they chatted nineteen to the dozen, but in a manner none of the other occupants of the room were privy to.  
  
*Miss me? * Schuldig asked, trying to sound brash, but coming across rather as hesitant. The answer clearly meant a lot.  
  
*You have no idea, * Brad admitted. *Look, I'm sorry- *  
  
*The great Bradley Crawford admitting he's wrong? *  
  
*Shut up. *  
  
*It hurt, you know, being given that ultimatum. I'm still pissed at you. Hence the sarcasm and the snippy tones. *  
  
*I know. What I was trying to say was I'm sorry I snapped at you like that and threatened to make you leave. We're a team. We don't operate properly when we're minus a member. *  
  
*You're not sorry I almost died? *  
  
*Of course I am! What do you think I am? *  
  
*Damned if I know. * Schuldig drew his knees up under his chin. *You run hot and cold like a bloody tap. You have this emotionless ice-prick persona you won't drop. You act like we're only together because it's convenient, like it was when you first started fucking me. Remember that? Remember the conversation back in Germany? Remember how we both accepted there was more to this than just the sex? When did it go back to just sex and why did I miss the memo? *  
  
*I love you *  
  
* I mean, I know I have a chequered past, but it's pretty low to treat me like that, you know? And. *  
  
Schuldig blinked. A smile curved across his face. *See what I mean about the hot and cold? Can't believe it took you so bloody long to say that! * Crawford looked a little awkward. The softness that had bloomed in his eyes began to fade and he glared at Schuldig. Schuldig grinned lazily. *Aw, come on, it's not often I have you in this position. Hanging off my every word, pleading inwardly for my acquiescence- *  
  
*That's a mighty big word for a cheap prostitute, * Crawford snarled.  
  
*Ouch. Come on, doesn't it really need saying? We both know- *  
  
*Why are you so reluctant? *  
  
*Just giving you a taste of your own medicine. *  
  
Crawford's insides churned. His father's voice echoed in his head. 'More fool the woman who loved you. How do you expect to amount to anything, brat? Spoiled, ungrateful child. Can't you do anything right? Fruit of my loins my arse. If the bitch hadn't died I'd have sued her for breach of contract. Divorce! What do you want from me, love? When you deserve it you'll get it. '  
  
"Love you," Schuldig murmured out loud, and pressed a gentle kiss to Brad's slack lips.  
  
There was gentle silence, enhanced by the spit and crackle of the fire. Brad reached up and tucked a stray strand of fiery hair behind Schuldig's ear, and kissed him a little more forcefully.  
  
"You know," Schuldig commented carelessly, "if your father wasn't dead I'd kill him. Let's go dance on his grave, ja? No, piss on it! No, fuck on it! Wait, all three, though perhaps not in that order."  
  
Brad began to laugh. It felt good, the tension easing from his body. Schuldig chuckled too, and Nagi grinned, not sure if he was supposed to be in on the joke or not. Brad leant against his lover's supple body.  
  
"You really know how to ruin a moment, don't you?"  
  
"Just bringing everyone back to reality," Schuldig pointed out with a sigh. "Anyone else notice the room's filling up with smoke?"  
  
"I though I put the fire out," Brad said in alarm.  
  
"You did," Nagi murmured fearfully. Three heads turned. A fourth forced itself a little way off of Nagi's lap as Farfarello came round.  
  
Metal pooled on the floor. Ropes were little more than cinders. The straightjacket was so many buckles and straps encrusted with ash. Tash stood before them.  
  
"Hey, you're really not bad looking," Schuldig leered. Tash snatched the curtains from their rail and wrapped the slightly mildewy fabric around her otherwise naked body.  
  
"I'm going to do good. I'm going to make people happy. You're not going to stop me, you arrogant bastards! Who are you to say what's right and what's wrong? You'll be sorry, when you're the only miserable ones on a planet full of happy people! No, I won't let you live that long. You'll just depress everyone!" With that, she walked out.  
  
"Hey, she didn't kill us!" Nagi exalted in sheer confusion.  
  
"No shit, Sherlock," Schuldig muttered. 


	29. Chapter 29, I don't want it to end! Penu...

Chapter Twenty-Nine  
  
"Der narr, trans: the fool" Schuldig murmured as the young woman made her way down the mountain, barefoot and naked apart from a rapidly disintegrating sheet.  
  
"Quite." Crawford handed Nagi his gun and fetched some hunting rifles from a cupboard.  
  
"That won't work," Schuldig pointed out. "I mean, what with her being invulnerable and all."  
  
"We have to try."  
  
"Why?" Nagi stared at them. "I mean, there's a lot of unrest and stuff, war, pain and so on. Why is it stupid to want to make people happy?"  
  
Schuldig chewed his lip, considering. Crawford opened his mouth to reply, but Schuldig waved for him to be quiet.  
  
"She was going to kill Ran," he eventually began. "I mean, we've tried that before, but this was different. He was our enemy; we wanted him dead because he wanted us dead. She was going to kill him because he wasn't happy. She. she isn't all there, well, that's obvious, but she isn't thinking this through. What about famine? What about floods and droughts and other natural disasters? What about pain, things like childbirth? What about grief and death and mourning and getting on with your life? What about freewill?  
  
"It's a nice thought, I know, but it's also a really cruel one. She wants to take away people's choices. She did it to you, ja? And when she stopped, how bad did you feel? And now she's a telepath too. She'll change people's minds if she doesn't like what they're going to do. She'll repress thoughts she doesn't like. She'll kill people who might interfere.  
  
"The end doesn't justify the means, nor the means the end. What's the verdammt saying, oh ja, 'Happiness is a means of travel, not a destination'. Sums it up, I guess. Basically it's all oppression and self- gratification. You think anyone does these things because they want people to suffer? Nein, well, rarely. Mostly, they want people to be happy, they want to be liked. That's Tash, that is. She wants to be liked. And she doesn't know how to react to people who don't like her, or her methods, so she's willing to kill them. She's a dictator. She takes away freewill and replaces it with what she thinks they should think."  
  
"You had a lot of time to think, didn't you?" Nagi grinned.  
  
"You have no idea."  
  
Schwarz set off down the mountain. It wasn't long before they came across the remains of the curtains, badly singed. A young man was lying dead nearby, burnt from the inside out.  
  
"You know what her name means?" Schuldig asked offhanded.  
  
"Short for Natasha, right?" Brad glanced across at him.  
  
"Nein. Test A Sample H. Damn lucky it spelt something reasonable, really. She's been a telempath for most of her life, but her original power was just, well, possession, but she wasn't keen on leaving her own body. Knocks you right out of yours though."  
  
"So what do we do if she tries something?" Nagi asked nervously.  
  
"Keep your verdammt shields up! For Gott's sake, she's a telepath, a telempath, a pyrokinetic, a healer, a clairvoyant."  
  
"What?"  
  
"She killed Tanya. Our Russian lass was going mad, Tash couldn't take it, so she let her go and took what she wanted."  
  
"She's wandering about stark naked having absorbed the powers of one of the most powerful clairvoyants ever?" Brad gave him an incredulous look.  
  
"Hey, I already said she was insane!"  
  
* * *  
  
They came across a scorched patch of earth. Tash's instability was making itself more and more apparent. As they neared the city and the clairvoyance became more powerful and demanding her emotions were running wild, which triggered the pyrokinesis.  
  
"We're not getting any closer," Nagi observed.  
  
"Well if someone hadn't destroyed all of our means of transport." Crawford shot Farfarello a look.  
  
"I'll pay," he grinned. "Should I replace Ran's car too? Would a hearse be a little more fitting?" This witticism received a slight chuckle.  
  
* * *  
  
They reached an out jutting rock, overlooking the main road. The occasional car sped past them.  
  
"She took one of those and headed towards Tokyo," Brad informed them. "She'll arrive at seven this evening and head towards our apartments."  
  
Schuldig spotted a scorched corpse at the side of the road, stripped of its clothes. She'd used the telepathy to lure a victim, stripped it, and used her pyrokinesis to kill it. It was very much an 'it' now, though what gender the corpse had been was anyone's guess. Schuldig was having nasty thoughts about the origin of the pyrokinesis. A certain Irish smoker from Rosenkruez kept springing to mind.  
  
A driver pulled over and climbed out of the car. By chance, it was a black BMW of the same year and model as Brad's. He made a mental note to collect his license plates from the car Farfarello had destroyed and claim this one as his own. The driver, a woman, lay face down on the grass without a word, and Nagi shot her in the back of the head. Schwarz climbed into the vehicle and set off once more.  
  
* * *  
  
Nagi dozed in the back eat of the car while Farfarello struggled with theology. Schuldig sat in the front with Brad, who was driving, and occasionally distracted him by running his hand up and down his thigh. This made Brad's foot spasm on the accelerator, sending them in fits and bursts down the increasingly busy highway.  
  
"How are you coping?" Brad glanced across at Schuldig, who had his hand buried in Brad's crotch.  
  
"With all the people? Just great. I missed it, to be honest. I mean, it wasn't exactly quiet in Farf's head, you know, but it lacked variety. Love people, love society, love the seething hysterical masses." Schuldig grinned.  
  
*Suppose Nagi needs a bathroom break, * he hinted. Crawford frowned at him.  
  
*We don't have time to stop. *  
  
*If you want to avoid an accident. *  
  
*Nagi doesn't need to use the bathroom, does he? *  
  
*No, but if I squeeze just so, * Crawford gasped and had to slam on the breaks, *we're going to cause a nasty little mess. * Schuldig grinned at his own double entendre.  
  
"No, Schuldig," Crawford snapped. Schuldig sighed.  
  
"Hey, how's things back there?" he called to Farfarello. Nagi twitched in his sleep, squirming uncomfortably.  
  
"God gave us freewill. If Tash takes it away from us, she is hurting God," Farfarello frowned. Nagi's eyes opened and he sat up, scowling slightly.  
  
"But she'll stop all the pain, Farfarello, all the hurt and anguish that hurts God," Schuldig told the Irishman. Nagi loosened his seatbelt and stared pointedly out of the window.  
  
"But he allows it anyway. Would stopping it hurt him, or would it be what he wants? If he didn't want pain, why give us freewill?" Farfarello pointed out. It wasn't a particularly coherent argument, but Schuldig had had plenty of experience in these little talks. Nagi chewed his lip and stared at the floor of the car.  
  
"She'll stop all the pain, Farf. Childbirth hurts, and she'll stop that. Not the actual births, but the pain. And God didn't want us to hurt, he preaches that we shouldn't hurt each other. If she stops everyone from hurting, she'll be pleasing God."  
  
"By taking away freewill?"  
  
"J-"  
  
"Crawford-san?"  
  
"Fine!" Crawford snapped suddenly. "We'll stop. But if Tash gets away I want you know the blame lies solely on your head, Schuldig."  
  
"Head? Now there's a thought," Schuldig smirked.  
  
Brad pulled into a small roadside cafe. After locking Farfarello into the car the three set off towards the men's, Nagi at an almost jog, soon outstripping the older men.  
  
"You are cruel," Brad commented.  
  
"You cut that a bit fine too. The kid was fit to burst." Schuldig smirked. "Okay, so it was with a bit of subliminal prompting, but bladders do have a set capacity."  
  
"You owe me," Brad told him, pulling him behind the toilets.  
  
"Here?" Schuldig wrinkled his nose.  
  
"I know you've done worse in worse," Brad commented. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to drive when someone's massaging your balls?"  
  
Schuldig smirked. "Live dangerously, liebhaber," he purred, pressing Brad against the wall and forcing his tongue into his mouth. Schuldig rubbed up against him. "Do you know the last time we did this?" He growled. "Not since before I had to retrieve that damned hacker. I hate it when we fight!" Brad would have agreed, but he was way beyond comprehensible thought, let alone speech. He moaned into Schuldig's throat, biting the exposed skin.  
  
"Hey, are we." Nagi trailed off. He hadn't even known you could do it like that, not in that position. He stared at the two bodies moving together. Hey, it was educational, and would fuel a few teenaged fantasies whenever he next got the chance to sleep. He wondered vaguely if Omi was as supple as Brad seemed to be.  
  
*Fuck off, Bishie. *  
  
Nagi blushed and fled back to the car.  
  
* * *  
  
Brad bit back the smile for what must have been the fifteenth time. Schuldig lounged on the front seat, unlit cigarette clamped between Cheshire Cat lips. His eyes were emerald slits. Brad positively glowed.  
  
"Next stop, the Koneko," Brad sang out as he pulled up, then frowned at himself. Was he usually this happy after sex? He was in danger of making a fool of himself. He spotted his old car, yet to be towed away. Nagi snatched the license plates for him and stowed them in the trunk without question.  
  
"Everybody out," Schuldig called out, clambering out of the seat. Brad took a moment to admire his lover's lithe body.  
  
They lined up on the pavement. Brad to the front, flanked by Schuldig and Farfarello, both fingering rifles, and further to the back, Nagi. It was a powerful picture they presented, powerful and united.  
  
The twee tinkling of the shop doorbell lessened the effect slightly. Ken looked up. Farfarello stiffened not in that sense, you hentai! . His last visit was all too well imprinted on his memory.  
  
"Not you again!" Ken gasped. Crawford watched water form the hose dowse his trouser legs and slowly raised his had to glower at Ken. It occurred to him he was still wearing the same clothes he had been last time they had come to the shop.  
  
"Gomen nasai."  
  
"Tash. Where is the weibsstuck?" Ken looked utterly blank. "Tash? English brunette, about so high, gave you all a happy last time she was here?"  
  
"Why would she be here? Farfarello kidnapped her. What's a weibsstuck?"  
  
"Bitch."  
  
"Hey!"  
  
"Weibsstuck. Means bitch," Schuldig snapped. "So, Oracle, where is she?"  
  
"She was going to come here," Brad insisted. "I don't understand."  
  
"Perhaps. perhaps she just hasn't arrived yet?" Ken suggested.  
  
"The idea does have credence," Bard admitted. "Perhaps you and the rest of Weiss would be advised to leave," he suggested.  
  
"I'm the only one here," Ken told them plainly. His face crumpled as he realised what he just said.  
  
"Okay, how to get this through to you," Schuldig growled. "We. Don't. Want. To. Kill. You. We're. Not. Going. To. Kill. You. Ja?"  
  
"Okay, sure, um, yes, right, okay." Ken backed out of the shop.  
  
"I wonder where everyone else is?" Nagi murmured.  
  
"Your little crush is at school, like you should be," Schuldig informed him with a grin. Nagi turned beetroot red. Brad frowned.  
  
"Omi?" he queried. Schuldig nodded cheerfully.  
  
"It's all very kawaii. Let 'em be, Braddy, it's doing no harm. Practically good, as far as I can see."  
  
"Guten Tag," a voice said from the doorway. Schwarz turned. 


	30. Chapter 30!

****

Chapter Thirty

*A/N This is going to be the last chapter. And I thought this would never even reach twenty! Speaking of which, this is the third or fourth draft, hence the lateness. I was altering this just last night! And this morning. And a lot recently, when I in fact have a very long English essay to write. Why is fanfiction so much more fun? And easier? *

Tash stood there, smiling serenely. Her brown eyes sparkled and her lips twisted into an approximation of a smile. Her clothes were a little charred, her hair a little wild, her face a little dirty, but she was calm. Her body radiated it. Actually, it radiated something else: heat. She was burning up inside.

"Pyrokinesis," Schuldig sneered. "There's a reason there's so few psis, you know. Pyrokinetics and telekinetics tend to accidentally kill themselves; telepaths and telempaths tend to do it on purpose; clairvoyants, post-cogs and pre-cogs go insane; and healers go undiscovered." He tilted his head and stared at her. "Is it just me, or is it hot in here?" he grinned.

Her eyes widened and some nearby bouquets spontaneously combusted. "It is, it isn't, isn't it?"

"Oh yes, the wonderful English subtitles on the Japanese dubbed 'Hamlet'," Brad nodded. "'To be or not to be? That is the question'. I always preferred 'Much Ado About Nothing' myself. Shakespeare had a talent for spotting the flaws in his society and exploiting them."

"I'd rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me," Tash quoted solemnly. A few more flowers went up in smoke. She smiled. "It's true, I never could be having with men. Too many destructive tendencies. Women create, men destroy. Women are nurture, men nature. Nature: so messy, so wild, so savage, so painful. But now I'm here to make it all better."

"Nature's not all bad," Schuldig protested "It's only when it's tampered with it really goes wrong." 

"Tash, you don't want to do this. Just, think it through. It won't work. You must know that," Nagi pleaded from what had been the back of the group. As it was, he was now standing closest to Tash, and the first to catch the wisps of a smell that reminded him rather frighteningly of Schuldig's cooking. 

"Of course it will work!" Tash scoffed. "I am all powerful. It said so, in the writing. Why do you think I had Tanya print it off? I'm invulnerable. I'm omnipotent, or at least have the potential to be so. I'm omniscient, thanks to Schuldig and some unknown Rosenkruez nurse."

"You're not omnipresent," Farfarello observed. "You're not God."

"Are those the criteria? Omnipotent, omnipresent, and omniscient?" Tash laughed. "What are the perks?"

Even Farfarello couldn't find anything to say to that.

"Dear cynical Schwarz," Tash sighed. "You just don't understand. I can do this. I'm the only person who can. And if you stop me, you will be remembered forever and the people who prevented eternal bliss and peace on earth." She gave them a scornful look and smoothed back her hair. She didn't notice the strands that came away in her hand, the many, many strands.

"We're not exactly popular as it is," Crawford said wryly. "We've already tried to destroy the world."

"Really? Well, I'm going to fix that. Everyone will be happy with what they've got and life will be perfect."

"No it won't."

"Shut up, Schuldig."

"Hey, I'm the mind reader here, and I say it won't! I really ought to know. You know, what with hanging about in other people's heads all day." Schuldig leered at her. "I mean, humanity ain't nice by nature. People out there, it's all rape and torture and death. They can't stand each other. They can't even stand themselves. Humanity? Ain't worth it. Go happy the rabbits. Less effort, instant gratification. Trust me, I'm a telepath." He smirked at her, sticking his hands in the back of his trousers and wiggling his hips crudely.

"You're not the only telepath now," Tash said menacingly. The floor around her feet began to blacken. "You know, I have a theory. What you hear, those are the thoughts they're trying to lock out. The thoughts the shield from themselves, not the ones they're shielding from you."

"Yeah, maybe. But I've been a telepath a hell of a lot longer, and I'm not insane. Well, maybe," Schuldig admitted, "but not as bad as you! If everyone's happy, what will make them strive for more?" Schuldig frowned. "Why, if you're _happy _lying dying of hunger in the African dustbowls, bother eat? Why bother get up and go to work if you're _happy_ in bed? I'm so _happy_ doing nothing, I might as well die. I'm _happy_ not eating, not sleeping, not moving, not breathing…"

Tash stared at him. "That won't happen," she growled. "I won't let it."

"It's human nature," Nagi protested. "Well, maybe not quite to that extent, but it could. Without the ambitious drive people will do nothing. They won't want to do things if they're happy with what they've got. Society will stagnate. Economies will crumble because no one will work. There'll be no food, no fuel, nothing. No one will want to do the jobs that really need doing: cleaning sewers, digging graves, that sort of thing."

"I'll make them want to. I can control them. I can do what I like!" Tash stared at him.

"That's really quite an immature attitude," Crawford observed. "Even young children realise they can't always have things their way."

"You'll be hated! Forever! By everyone!"

"So what else is new?" Schuldig spat bitterly.

Tash stared from one face to another. Schuldig: hated because he was illegitimate and a freak, living on the streets by the age of eight and selling his body at eleven for drugs to help ignore the voices in his head. Crawford: spent his youth always seeking the love and respect of people who couldn't care less how he felt, only what he achieved for them, using him and abusing him for his talents. Nagi: unwanted accident for two teenagers and consistently reminded of this, beaten and abused by a drunkard father and seeing his own mother die of a drug overdose, scorned and mocked for his powers at an orphanage that couldn't afford to keep him. Farfarello: the child of a nun brought up to believe in strict Catholic values, resentful of the demands placed upon him and the rules he was supposed to obey when others broke them, shunned because he looked like Frankenstein's creature, crazy as a loon but sharp as a tack and treated like an idiot.

Tash stared at them. Pain, anger, hate, fear, jealousy, lust, madness… Her eyes widened. She had to stop this. She couldn't cope with this. Schuldig's mouth widened slightly, and Schwarz dropped the shields they spent their lives maintaining. The emotions flooded her psychic senses, the thoughts drowned out her own.

__

Hate them kill them I shouldn't I want to it's His fault let them die kill them need it want it hurt Him hate him kill them who cares not enough be better kill them more efficient hurt Him hope he's dead my fault kill hurt hate kill hurt hate killhurthate killhurthate killhurthatekillhurthatekillhurthateKILLHURTHATe…

Tash stumbled backwards. "Be happy," she whispered. "Be calm. Be content." She kept muttering, kept choking out the words: "be happy, be calm, be content, be happy be calm be content behappy becalm becontent behappybecalmbecontent…" She trembled like a leaf, wild eyed she projected the emotions, beating back the wave of agony and abhorrance. Schuldig's smirk began to waver into a real smile, Nagi relaxed a little, Crawford stopped glowering, Farfarello… Farfarello remained, as usual, unaffected. He stared at her through one glassy cat's eye, watching her like a cat waiting to see if the idiot prey will move, just a whisker, so it can pounce.

__

Hurt him kill Him revenge on Him kill her hurt her revenge on her…

"You know," Schuldig told her, still smiling, "pyrokinesis is an extremely volatile talent, and emotionally responsive. You know what that means?" he slid an arm around Crawford's waist and leant against his lover. Crawford gave him a peck on the cheek.

Tash stared at him. Emotions overwhelmed her telempathy. Information overloaded her clairvoyance. Thoughts overcame the telepathy. Fear and horror and anger grasped her in wraithlike anguish and threatened to pull her into the whirling maelstrom of inner turmoil. She struggled desperately to maintain some kind of balance between her conflicting powers.

Smoke swirled around her like a magician's trick. Fire danced out of her nose and mouth and ears, making her look like some demon summoned from Dante's inferno. 

Her healing talents struggled to keep up as she fought to contain the fire. Flesh blackened and cracked and peeled, then smoothed and shone white again. There was an audible squelch as some internal organ expanded beyond measure in the heat and exploded. A frown crossed her face, and there was a throbbing pulse as it regrew. She was regrowing her internal organs. Nagi stared at her. She was truly invulnerable. If she were to die, they would have to give her no time for thought. A bullet to the heart, a bullet to the brain, both too slow. A split second would be a split second too long. Conscious, unconscious or subconscious, part of her would heal herself. And then she would take revenge.

"I'm not going to die," she told them calmly. She turned to look at Farfarello, her primary adversary here. His usual thought pattern continued unheeded.

"You can't contain it," Schuldig gloated. She smirked at him. Turning her head and raising her arms, a jet of flame shot from her body. Farfarello laughed maniacally as his clothes went up in ash and the flames caressed his nude flesh. It tickled. Tash smiled.

"She's invulnerable," Crawford murmured, watching his teammate enjoy what was likely to be his final moments. He was having difficulty caring, having difficulty rousing himself to action. All he wanted to do was hold Schuldig. Even knowing that it was Tash doing that didn't help. Lethargy gripped him as Farfarello burned.

There was a pop.

Not a particularly ominous sound. Quite an anti-climatic sound, really. Almost a pleasant sound. And in it's wake, silence. Nagi's eyes widened at what he'd done, at the empty space that used to be a solid person. The pop was the air rushing to fill the space the person had been. No final scream, no splat or squelch or any interesting noise of demise, just 'pop'.

Schwarz stared at the greasy pile of ash. It wasn't pleasant to look at. Dark streaks were left on the ground by the cooling fragments of her body and blood smeared the windows. The plants dripped. Crawford had the presence of mind to turn a hose of Farfarello, introducing sound to the otherwise silent flower shop.

"Hey!" Schuldig said suddenly, cheerfully. "This is Weiss's place! They get to clean this up!"

* * *

'Hello again.'

****

'What? Wait, no, this isn't right…'

'I hear you don't know much about religion. Perhaps I could help? In the beginning there was the word, and the word was God…'

****

'But… I'm supposed to be in control. I'm possessing this body. Why aren't I in control?'

'I'm its original occupant, and I'm not…'

*You like, you like? You utterly grossed out by the way to obviously impending death? You understand where Tash is? You R&R and C&C and S&M… okay, not the last one. ^_^ All done! Wait, still got an epilogue here… thought: does the formatting work, the bold and italics? Because that last bit might take rather more concentration than it ought to if the text formats all look the same. *


	31. Epilogue! And a bribe for more reviews!

Epilogue  
  
*So sappy you could pour it on pancakes. Hey, I like sap. I feel I deserve a reward for writing thirty chapters and a really nasty death at the end. And if you hang on for a bit, I'll show you what your reward is for reading the whole damn thing. O.o And no, Anria, you don't have to read it, coz I know how you dislike sap, especially just wildly inappropriate and OOC sap as I write! ^_^ *  
  
Schuldig curled against Brad, letting the older man tangle his fingers in the orange hair. He sighed contentedly. Yet another night of amazing sex completed, and they were watching the dawn from the balcony. Never mind the fact they were both naked and people were beginning to appear in the streets below. Brad kissed his scalp.  
  
"You've been very protective recently," Schuldig observed lazily.  
  
"I almost lost you," Brad admitted candidly. "I love you."  
  
"Hey, I'm not complaining," Schuldig protested. There was a moment's silence. "Ja, I love you too," he muttered.  
  
"Why do you always sound so reluctant to say that?" Brad wondered aloud. "Is it such a bad thing?"  
  
"Nein," Schuldig nibbled his lover's ear. "I'm just afraid this will all turn out to be some hideous dream, or joke, or something, and I wouldn't be able to take that. It helps to know you need me to say it."  
  
Brad grunted. "I don't like being so dependant," he worried.  
  
"Oh lay off it!" Schuldig grinned. "Ever since we met, we've been dependent on each other. Not just us two, but all four of us. Speaking of our younger half, I hear movement."  
  
"Yes, Nagi normally gets up for school around now." Crawford settled Schuldig more comfortably in his arms. Schuldig nestled against his chest, pleased at the response he got. Schuldig craved a reaction from anyone he met. Attention seeking behaviour, they called it. And finally he was getting the attention he felt he deserved.  
  
"But. he'll get there over an hour before it starts," Schuldig gave Crawford a confused look, and they both turned to stare through the French windows that opened onto the small balcony.  
  
Nagi was humming. He was smiling. He was taking care of his appearance.  
  
"Scheisse," Schuldig murmured. "The chibi's eating breakfast. Now there's a turn up for the books. And without being forced, too."  
  
"What was it you said about him and that Weiss brat?" Brad suddenly remembered Schuldig's careless aside in their final battle with Tash.  
  
"What? Oh, yeah, bit of sexual tension going on there. You know, hormones and stuff. Probably not a bad thing, really. I mean, we did save the world, so they can't still hate us."  
  
"I rather think they can," Brad sighed. "Well, que sera, sera." He finally had someone who loved him not for what he could do, but for how he did it, who he was. It was a nice feeling, all things considered. Didn't mean he was going to stop pushing himself relentlessly to achieve higher and better, but at least he felt safe in the knowledge that if he didn't reach the standards he placed for himself, he'd have exceeded every expectation Schuldig had for him, but Schuldig expected nothing but to be loved, and Brad knew he couldn't do that any more than he already was. See? Really, really sappy!   
  
"Whatever will be, will be," Schuldig warbled. Brad gave him a playful slap. "So, wanna fuck in front of the entire city?"  
  
"Are you going to give me a choice?"  
  
"There's always a choice."  
  
  
  
Okay, where to start? A thank you list to exceed even the most effusive of Oscar speeches? An explanation of what I'm about to write next (really, it is relevant)? Or my little giftfic.  
  
Yep, I'll do a giftfic for the first person to review this. I'll write any pairing, but I can't promise good quality stuff if you give me something like Farf&Omi. Okay, put it this way, something that could conceivably happen as long as the characters stay IC, or IC to the extent I normally write them. If it's really, really odd, expect a hideous attempt at humour. Wit I can do, but funny I'm not.  
  
Since I seem to be doing this in the reverse order, next, a quick note to anyone who's going to keep reading my stuff once they've replace their eyes which must have fallen out after reading this epic piece. Since there's a lot of unexplored stuff in this fic, I'm going to write a sequel, and possibly several related pieces, depending on what I manage to cover / uncover in the sequel. These will be labelled NRtiein. The sequel will be called 'Repercussions', and will primarily deal with how Weiss cope after Tash leaves. It ought to include, Aya/Yohji, Omi/Nagi and maybe Farf/Aya- chan. I might put a little Brad flashback in to explain more of what's going on with him in the last few chapters here. One problem: I can't think of a plot to save my life. Admittedly, I started this one with no idea of what was going to happen, but I figured it out pretty quickly. If you're reading this at Mediaminer.Org, you'll have noticed my erratic updating. So if you want updates on a regular basis, review! It'll guilt me into writing more, and hopefully will inspire me. So, yeah, R&R = more chapters. No R&R = me forgetting I even started the damn fic in the first place.  
  
If our giftficcer gives me a nice pairing, it may go straight to NRTie-in. Well, say gift-ficcers, since I'm putting this up on both Mediaminer.org and Fanfiction.net. Hey, maybe when I finally get my own site up and running, the first person to email me with a review having read the whole thing will get one too. I'm feeling a little uninspired at the mo. Blame it on writing ten chapters in three days.  
  
Finally, shoutouts. Basically, just wanna say huge thanks to Anria for introducing me to WK and you should all go find her stuff now because it's absolutely wonderful! (type Anria Lalumin in a search engine, there's only so many possibilities, ne? Seriously, I'm not sucking up. Well, not much ^_^)  
  
Next, Aoe and Shoori who have no idea I exist but write some of the best fanfiction ever and really ought to be writing novels, and whose fics introduced me to Schu&Brad, the only pairing I can write well for either character, as far as I know. And Yanagi, who even reviewed making me oh so happy, coz she writes the most amazing Nagi stuff.  
  
And lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots of thanks to all the wonderful reviewee people!!!!!!!!! I looked forwards to opening my inbox! Thank you to (yeah, I'm going to list! If you're not in there and you've reviewed, yell at me! Well, not if you reviewed after I put this up. Then you an bug me for a giftfic instead) Rikkali, Alz-chan, Blue Silhouette, TrenchcoatMan, Verie, Random Person, Kat, Skrya, Yanagi-sen, Kinneas, and Autumn. *pauses * do I need to get a real life? Nah, this one's much more entertaining.  
  
Now, to get back to all that course work I've been neglecting. Guess who's supposed to be writing an essay on 'Much Ado About nothing'? ^_^ What, you think I just randomly started spouting Shakespeare? Seeing as this endnote seems to be getting longer than the epilogue.  
  
ttfn, ta-ta for now! 


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